The Lengths He Would Go
by nondescriptf
Summary: Lies. Deceptions. Half-truths. Chuck and Blair. Birthday fic for Iluvenis. *Epilogue added.*
1. A Shade of Gray

**A/N: Most people are lucky to get _one_ birthday fic for their birthday, but some assholes get _two_. Sorry, this is so ridiculously, obnoxiously late, but happy fucking birthday, _again_, Iluvenis—I promise it isn't riddled with CFOMC.**

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><p><strong>NOTE: Timing is tricky in this story, as it jumps around quite a bit, backwards and forwards. Everything takes place in the same year 2018, unless it specifies last year, two years ago, etc.<strong>

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_**Last week of February, 2018**_

The hired town car pulled to a stop in front of the luxury high-rise building, causing a flurry of cameras to start flashing, as the reporters and their crews gathered at her door. She couldn't say she was surprised by the influx of paparazzi, considering the rather public showdown that had occurred in the lobby of the building yesterday. She let out a silent sigh of relief that the car windows were tinted, it allowed her time to make sure she looked flawless before stepping out to face them. After slamming her compact shut and shoving it into her purse, she pushed the bridge of her trademark, oversized sunglasses up, so that they covered most of her face. Her assigned chauffer, Carl, quickly stepped around the car and fought his way through to reach her side.

She derived a perverse pleasure from all this attention. Despite the fact that this situation was far from desirable or ideal, she was going to milk it for all it was worth. Who knew how long her name would be on the lips of all of Manhattan? As Carl held her door open, the doormen rushed to help make a path for her to get into the building. None of that, however, drowned out the sound of questions being shouted out at her or the clicking of the cameras. She wished Chuck could come down and meet her at the car, if only to take a little pressure off of her, but she doubted he was home yet. Instead, she made no eye contact and slowly pushed her way through the crowd towards the safety of the lobby entry.

"_How long has your affair with Chuck Bass been going on?"_

"_Please tell us about your relationship with Mr. Bass."_

"_Did Blair Bass assault you?"_

"_Do you still feel safe now that Blair Bass has been released from custody after attacking you yesterday?"_

"_Miss Humphrey, do you consider yourself a home wrecker?"_

"_What does your stepmother think of all of this?"_

The questions went on and on, but none of that mattered. Jenny had long stopped showing any sign of reacting to what got yelled at her, even though the comments and questions ranged from the inane to malicious. Her face had been plastered on the cover of every tabloid and reputable paper in the city, inserted between an artfully torn photo of the former King and Queen of the Upper East Side. The first day the press had started to follow her, she had been called every vile name in the book. But even that had not made her back down or lose confidence in her decision.

No, what had tipped her over the edge to break down into tears, was a group of girls from Constance. They had cornered her as she was about to enter her (old) apartment building and staged a misguided intervention of sorts. First, she had been informed that they had removed any trace of her ever being Queen. Next, the girl Jenny had pegged as the current Queen, snottily said, "You broke the rules of The Girls of the Steps. Blair Waldorf _made _you, and you betrayed her." Finally, they proceeded to pull out bottles of nail polish and dumped it all over her beautiful, white, Marc Jacobs trench coat.

Jenny had run up the stairs to her small studio apartment, curled up in bed and sobbed herself to sleep. That first day had been just a glimpse of what was to come, and for a brief moment she actually wondered if it was all worth it. But then she remembered why she had jumped into the fray to begin with—_her future_.

She shook herself from reminiscing about the events from almost a month ago, and made her way out of the private elevator and into her infinitely more luxurious and current home.

"Chuck?" Jenny called out. That she was met with silence was no surprise, Chuck rarely made it home before seven p.m., and it wasn't even five. She slipped off her sunglasses, and threw them on top of purse that landed on the couch. She made her way to the bar in the living room—it was large, well-stocked, and had plenty of bourbon. She had spent years trying to make scotch her drink of choice, she thought it would make her appear more edgy and daring, but she could never quite stomach it. However, bourbon was sweeter and smoother, and it suited her just fine. She grabbed a tumbler, and dropped a couple of ice cubes in it, before pouring a generous amount of Michters and took a big gulp.

Her cell phone started to ring, as she plopped onto one of the oversized armchairs. She looked at the screen and let out a whine of annoyance. _Dan_. It was bad enough she had been lectured by her father over lunch. Rufus hadn't even let her get a word in edgewise. The only saving grace was that Lily hadn't come with him.

"What?" She said with annoyance, in lieu of a proper greeting.

"_Jenny?"_ Her brother said.

"Yeah, Dan. What can I do for you?"

"_Can't your big brother just call to see how your doing?"_

She said nothing.

"_C'mon, talk to me. I'm worried. I just heard about what happened yesterday, are you ok? I'm sure whatever Blair did, she didn't—." _

"You were so worried that you haven't returned my calls, texts or emails for the past three weeks?" Jenny snapped bitterly, as she blinked away her tears. She couldn't believe Dan was defending Blair, _she_ was his sister, for Christ's sake. "Ahh, yes, let's get to the real reason you're calling, it took less than sixty seconds for you to bring up her name. Worried about your precious Blair, are you?"

It was a stab in the dark, just another way for her to be unnecessarily cruel in hopes of deflecting the flood of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her. But there was no denial on her brother's lips, instead an awkward pause of silence. Jenny had suspected, after all, who writes a book _and _a sequel based on a person if she didn't have some sort of hold on you? It was unfortunate that it appeared her brother had never really gotten over Blair. Though, she couldn't quite fault him, it's why her schoolgirl crush on Nate Archibald had never entirely faded—how could it? She had always been _thisclose_, and the opportunity always seemed to just slip away.

"_Where is this animosity coming from?" _Dan finally sputtered a full minute later._ "I'm calling you, because you're my sister. And imagine my surprise to see the paper and read that Blair attacked you and you had her arrested? Inside _your_ new home? Why didn't you call me?"_

"Why would I call you? The last time we spoke you made it clear you thought I was a home wrecker and you've refused to speak to me since," she reminded him pointedly. "Excuse me if I wasn't so keen on reliving your judging me again without you letting me explain myself."

"_This isn't who you are. You don't go around sleeping with married men."_

"You're proving my point for me, Dan. How can I talk to you, when you were against me going to Chuck to ask him for money in the first place? I had no idea that the business meeting we had last year would eventually lead to all this. And now I'm all alone, and have _no one_."

"_Alone? You have Chuck, who you conveniently forget is married to someone else,"_ Dan snapped back at her.

No! Jenny longed to scream, everything was like she said—she had no one. She wanted to laugh at the thought of Chuck being there for her. But instead of giving anything away, she remained silent. Had her brother shown her any compassion after she had accepted Chuck's proposition, she would have told him the truth. But instead, Dan had been his good old, reliable and self-righteous self. It had reminded her how isolated she felt around her father and brother sometimes—as if she was somehow a bad person for wanting things. She longed to confess in Dan—remembering a time when she had adored and idolized him, and had been so proud that he was her big brother. She often wondered when they had grown so far apart.

Dan sighed loudly. When he spoke again, his tone had softened. _ "I don't want to fight with you, Jenny, because we're clearly not going to see eye to eye on the situation. But at the end of the day, we're family and I love you. Are you sure this is what you want?"_

She reached for the glass of bourbon that had been neglected for too long and took a greedy sip. With a deep breath, she sealed her own fate. "I know you find this hard to believe, Dan, but I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm almost twenty-five, nearly a quarter of a century. And despite what you think, Chuck didn't trick me into doing anything or compromising myself. This was my choice."

"_Blair didn't hurt you, did she? Dad wasn't exactly forthcoming about what happened, and I read that she punched you?" _Dan asked. She could hear the concern in his voice.

"No, it was nothing like that. She showed up, we exchanged words, she pulled my hair, I pushed her off of me, she made threats, and I called the police. Simple as that." She heard the elevator ding, and quickly wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. "Chuck just got home, I have to go."

"_Let's do lunch later this week, ok?"_

"I'll think about it." Jenny didn't bother to say goodbye and hung up her phone. When she looked up, she found Chuck staring at her in irritation. "What?"

"I told you to have Carl drive you into the garage to avoid the press, but you just have to grab every last second of the spotlight, don't you?" Chuck hissed.

"Oh please, you want me to fuel the fire that your crazy wife did physical harm to me? Pfft. No thanks. I thought you said security in this place was top notch, how the hell did she even get in?"

"It's Blair," Chuck stated, as if that explained everything.

Jenny saw his eyes soften just the slightest hint, and for the umpteenth time, she wondered why he was doing this.

"You brought this on yourself," he informed her. "Maybe, if as I suggested when you moved in, you kept a low profile, we could have avoided yesterday's incident altogether."

"If we're going to go that route, then I believe I told you that I didn't think it was wise for us to live together, to begin with."

Chuck snorted as he rolled his eyes. "We're roommates, if you could even call it that. You knew the terms of the deal, if you wanted the money at the rate we discussed to fund your fashion line, you needed to do as I said."

"You know what I meant," she snapped back forcefully.

"Ahh, _there_ it is. I should've realized this earlier. Could these acts of rebellion be attributed to frustration of the sexual variety?" Chuck smirked. He shot her a patronizing grin. "If you'd like, I could call a service—they'll find someone discreet. I'm sure they have a Nate look-alike on hand. Say the word, and I'll make the call—foot the bill, even."

"I _hate_ you Chuck!" Jenny shrieked. Filled with rage, she took her half-drunken glass of bourbon and flung it at his head.

He took a step to his left, and just managed to miss getting hit dead on. The amber liquor splashed against the cream colored wall and onto his jacket, the glass shattering on the floor.

"Clean that up," he ordered icily and then turned on his heel and went down the hall into his study.

Jenny closed her eyes and let out a scream. Then, she collected herself and went back to the bar and poured herself another glass of bourbon. She'd finish her drink and pretend she wasn't going to clean it up, but she knew she would. Just like she would keep bitching to herself how this was all Chuck's fault, when the truth of the matter was, she was just fulfilling her end of their deal. Little did she realize that in a few weeks, she'd recognize this evening as when she first saw chinks in what she had believed to be Chuck's impenetrable armor.

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_**Last week of January 2018**_

"Blair, we need to talk," Chuck said quietly.

She turned around to stare at him, wondering why she felt a prickle of dread run up her spine. She knew he had only been pretending to be okay that she had gone away with Serena on the heels of his return from his business trip. "Let me fix you a drink—."

"That won't be necessary," he cut in.

Blair raised an eyebrow at his tone. Instead of flashing her a sheepish grin, his face was impassive as he walked past her and headed towards the living room. The irritation she felt was undeniable, but she knew something was off. The four day spa treatment had helped her come to the conclusion that she should stop putting off telling Chuck her secret. Deep down inside, she knew Chuck would understand, and her guilty conscience was reminding her of that very fact. For a second, she wondered if Chuck knew—could _that _be the reason for his behavior? With a tinge of trepidation, she made her way down the hall and sat down at the other end of the couch he occupied.

It would go much better if she just came clean right away, instead of trying to figure out what he knew. She took a deep breath and just dove in head first, "Listen, Chuck—."

"No, me first," he interrupted.

She looked up to find him staring straight ahead, he wasn't even looking at her, but his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Blair, it's over between us," Chuck said when he finally spoke a minute later.

"Ex—Excuse me?" She stammered.

"You heard me."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific, what's over between us?"

"It, as in our marriage. I'm leaving and I want a divorce."

"Is this your idea of a sick and twisted joke?" She asked carefully. If he knew her secret, and this was his way for punishing her about it, he had chosen a rather dramatic fashion to do so.

"No," he answered. He turned and looked at her. "I couldn't be more serious. I'm exhausted from our relationship and I want out."

"And where exactly is this coming from? Because as far as I can recall, you were pretty damned invigorated when you told me on our anniversary, you were ready to start a family. And you've put on a pretty convincing show of enthusiasm in your efforts to insure I get pregnant."

"I'm not going to deny that I enjoy sex with you, it's always been a large part of our relationship," Chuck acknowledged. Using a softer tone, he continued, "But don't you think it's a sign that you just had a false alarm? That despite how hard we've been trying, you're still not pregnant? I think it's a blessing in disguise. I've been fooling myself this whole time that it was the next logical step of our relationship."

"Fooling yourself _how_?" Blair asked with a tinge of hysteria in her voice.

"That I want a family with you," he whispered. There was sorrow and regret in his eyes. "It took me _years _before I even brought up the idea of you getting pregnant again. I kept telling myself I waited because of what had happened, and how long it took for you to feel like yourself again. But it was all a lie. I've been ignoring it you see—the lure of wanting to go back to how things were, before that night at Victrola. It's been growing, that pull towards my old life, and I miss it, I miss being Chuck Bass."

"So let me get this straight, right now you are _not_ Chuck Bass?" She asked mockingly. "And in order to be _yourself_, you want to go back to a time where you used to bury your feelings and act as though they didn't exist? You want to drown yourself with alcohol, drugs and women to avoid feeling anything real or worthwhile. That's what you miss?"

"Unequivocally," Chuck answered without hesitation.

"I don't believe you, you're lying," Blair declared.

"What is so hard for you to understand?" He said with contempt. "I am tired of caring about anyone other than myself. I long for the days where I could do whatever I wanted to, whenever I wanted it and damned the consequences of hurting someone's feelings."

"You love me," she stated fearlessly. Chuck had gone too far, and this had to stop now.

"I do," he agreed. "But from this moment on, I choose to no longer be ruled by that emotion." He reached out and took her hands into his. "Falling in love with you was never my choice. Once love had taken a hold of me, I was a prisoner. I thought I had to let those feelings dictate everything I did. But don't you see, Blair? While loving you may not have been a choice, my being involved with you can be. I don't want this anymore. I don't want this life, I don't want this burden, and I most certainly don't want to be married to you."

His words were said with such confidence that she felt herself faltering. This couldn't possibly be happening. Gone was her husband who had come home from his weeklong trip in Australia and had been elated just to have her sleep in his arms again. In a strangled voice she asked a question she never thought she would have to pose. "Is there someone else?"

Chuck shook his head.

It struck her just then, _he _had been the one to turn down sex four nights ago, insisting he was worried about her infection. Perversely Blair's mind raced and grasped on the moment last month when she saw Jenny Humphrey in her husband's office, hugging him tightly. "Did you fuck somebody?"

"No," Chuck answered flatly. He laughed bitterly. "I have been nothing but faithful to you, and still one of the first questions you ask is if I'm seeing someone else. _When_ would I have had the time, Blair?"

"I don't understand. Why are you saying these things to me? Why don't you want to be with me anymore? What did I do? Did something happen to you that you're not telling me about?" Blair started to panic and her heart was beating quickly. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her and the room was spinning.

"Nothing happened. I'm sorry, but I just don't want this life anymore. I wanted to try and make things work, but I can't ignore my desire to be free of all of this. It would be unfair to you," Chuck said uncomfortably. And then, as though he were trying to reassure her, he added, "You are the only person I could ever love, Blair, I just don't want to."

Somehow, despite the extreme contradiction of his words, the tension in her heart eased a bit. The reassurance that he still loved her made the room steady and her focus was slowly being regained.

"So, please, don't make things difficult for both of us, and accept this for what it is. We had a good run, but now it's over. I'm not going to change my mind. Be grateful for the timing of it. You're a beautiful and amazing woman. You will have no trouble finding somebody who wants to be with you—someone _else_ you can start a family with. It's better this way, a child with me would only complicate things," Chuck attempted to convince her.

Blair's eyes narrowed. Why was he bringing up children, again? She was desperate to cling to anything. She needed to force his hand. "And what if I told you I was pregnant? That I lied to you about the results I got from Dr. Ruggio?"

Chuck froze.

She laughed bitterly. "Nothing to say?"

He let go of her hands and leaned over so his face was level to hers. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but then she saw the coldness in his eyes.

"Get rid of it."

Blair slapped him hard across the face before she could stop herself. With an anger she didn't know she still had, she hissed at him, "How dare _you_ say that to _me_! Get out! I don't know who you are right now."

He stood up slowly as he removed the wedding ring from his finger and placed it on the coffee table.

"I'll send someone for my things," Chuck said woodenly. He turned his back to her and made his way down the hall.

It wasn't until Blair heard the elevator that it hit her that he had really left. She grabbed his ring off the table and threw it against the wall. When the ring landed on the floor a few feet away from her, she braced herself to feel something, _anything_. But instead she felt empty inside, it was as if she was having an out-of-body experience, and all that was left was her physical shell. She stumbled to the couch and curled up on her side. Hugging a pillow, and rocking back and forth in shock, she waited for the tears that never came.

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_**Last week of February 2018**_

"Blair!" Serena called out worriedly as she rushed over and hugged her tightly. "Are you ok?"

She allowed her best friend to embrace her for a moment longer before loudly complaining, "S, I can't breathe. Everything's fine, why wouldn't it be?"

"_B_, you spent the night in jail."

Blair ignored her and turned to sign the sheet so she could collect her purse and coat. She slipped on the latter, before digging in her purse to find her sunglasses.

"The number of photographers outside is worse than the morning after the news came out that Chuck left—."

She turned around and glared at her friend. "Chuck did _not_ leave me."

Serena looked at her as though she desperately wanted to object, but she just pursed her lips and wisely said nothing.

"Is the car waiting outside?"

Serena nodded.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?"

Without waiting for a response from her friend, Blair pushed the doors of the police precinct open, and basked in the flashes of the cameras.

_Mrs. Bass, did you punch Jenny Humphrey?_

_Is it true Mr. Bass has filed for divorce?_

_Why were you at Mr. Bass's new apartment?_

_Have you spoken to your husband since he left you?_

_How long has his affair with Miss Humphrey been going on?_

_Is Miss Humphrey pressing charges?_

Blair just smiled the entire time and linked her arm through Serena's as they made their way into the limo. As soon as the car drove away, Serena turned to her with a look of concern. "Is that why you went there last night? Chuck filed for divorce? Why didn't you tell me?"

"What's there to tell?" She countered with a shrug of her shoulders.

"How long are you going to be in denial about this?" Serena's eyes glanced up front to make sure that the divider was up, but still lowered her voice. "You attacked Jenny, who, in case you haven't noticed, is _living_ with your husband."

"Something's not right," Blair insisted. "I _know_ Chuck, it isn't what everyone thinks. I just can't figure out what the missing piece to the puzzle is."

"Wake up, Blair. I'm begging you, please stop this nonsense."

"Have you spoken to Nate?" She asked, ignoring her friend's plea.

Serena sighed. "Chuck still won't see him."

"And you don't find that the least bit peculiar?"

"No, I don't," Serena said. "Chuck knows that Nate's furious with him, so he's avoiding him."

"That's just more evidence that all of this doesn't add up. It's one thing to cut me off, and even you, S—but _Nate_? No matter how angry they get at each other, you know in their own way, they're just as bad as we are. Chuck avoiding Nate is a clue," Blair said triumphantly.

"A clue?" Serena yelled in frustration. "Do you think this is just one big game? You're in denial, Blair."

"Volume, _S_."

"Look at me. Tell me, when are you going to get it? Chuck _left _you."

"I'm not in denial, and Chuck is not serious. I _know_ him, this is far from over."

"So it doesn't bother you that he left you for Jenny?"

Blair flinched. It was the first time those exact words had been spoken directly to her. Everyone around her had been too terrified of her reaction to say those words. It had been one week exactly after Blair had told Chuck to get out of their house, that the rumor had spread that her husband and Jenny Humphrey were house hunting. Blair had fallen back into Queen B mode and simply acted as though this piece of information did not exist. In fact, it was eerily familiar to the summer after her first year of college, and Jenny's name was not allowed to be spoken. Only Dorota had dared to collect all the tabloids and press clippings that pertained to Chuck and Jenny, and left them piled neatly on Blair's desk. But the divorce papers she had been served with yesterday had been very, very real and she could not pretend any longer.

"Whatever all of this is," Blair gestured around for emphasis, trying to steady her trembling voice. "It doesn't makes sense."

Serena seemed overly relieved that Blair was showing emotion, and reached out to squeeze her hand. It was that gesture of affection that caused her to start unraveling.

"I read somewhere that when you love someone and they step away, there's an instinctive response to glance up to make sure that they're still there.* I keep looking, but Chuck's not there—where is he, S? Why can't I see him?"

Blair turned and buried her face into Serena's shoulder and the blonde's arms immediately wrapped around her. The dam had burst, and the tears she had repressed for so long started to fall.

"We're _married_," she sobbed. "He _loves_ me, I know he does. He finally asked if enough time had passed, and if I was ready to start trying to get pregnant again. We were going to have little baby Basses that we dressed up in mini-headbands and tiny little bow ties. I don't know why he's doing this. Jenny doesn't mean anything, he's using her to prove a point, he's trying to make me think he's moved on."

"Oh, Blair, I'm so sorry," Serena crooned as she stroked her hair. Blair closed her eyes and stopped denying herself the comfort her friend had offered earlier. She knew Serena didn't believe her, but she was wrong. Chuck loved her, he had to.

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_**tbc**_

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><p>AN: This story is inspired by a story arc from the TV show Criminal Minds, and all the chapters are named after episodes from that series. There will be quotes from the show scattered throughout, and noted at the end of each chapter.

Also, I stopped watching the show (Gossip Girl) after 4x11 and although I am aware of some of the events that have happened since, I've remained largely detail free. So please bear in mind, that if aspects of Chuck and Blair's past are different from canon, it is due to this reason.

* from Devil's Night 6x06


	2. No Way Out

_**September 26, 2018—Present**_

He caught her just before she entered the private elevator to the penthouse.

"Blair!" Jack yelled.

She turned around slowly, before meeting his gaze. A sneer curled on her lips. "I see you're as dense as ever. You should have taken the hint when I ignored your calls, not read it as an invitation to come find me. I have no wish to speak to you."

"It's about Chuck," he said simply.

Blair froze as her eyes filled with concern.

He pressed his advantage. "Look, I know you despise me, but I know you still love my nephew. There's a situation, and I need you to come with me."

"What kind of situation?" She asked suspiciously.

"The kind you've witnessed before. Last time you managed to talk him down from the ledge, I'm worried this time you won't be able to," Jack said brutally.

The color drained from her face, as she reached for the wall to steady herself. "I don't believe you."

"I've tried to reason with him, Blair, but he just won't listen. It will be all over the news tomorrow, but Chuck lost Bass Industries—to _me_."

Her lips formed a perfect 'O', and Jack knew he had her exactly where he wanted her.

"We both know there's nothing I enjoy more than taking things from Chuck, but the last thing I want for him to do is die." In a way, Jack wasn't lying—it would do no good for his nephew to die, and rob him the pleasure of watching Chuck live a miserable and tortured existence. "He needs you, Blair. Please, come with me."

She nodded and allowed him to lead her into his waiting car. Her distress was obvious as she sat, wringing her hands. She didn't even notice that he took her photo with his phone. Jack smirked, as he typed two words to attach with the photo, _Happy Anniversary_. Once they were inside the building, he'd push SEND. But there was no reason to wait to send Chuck the picture of the semi-automatic that was tucked inside his suit jacket.

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_**October 2015, three years earlier**_

"What do you want, Jack?"

"Felicitations are in order, my only nephew got married—I'll pretend my invitation got lost in the mail. Am I not allowed to say congratulations? Ask if you enjoyed your honeymoon?" Jack asked innocently.

"The honeymoon was great," Chuck answered dismissively. "Now, if that's all…?"

"Actually, I have a proposition for you."

"Of course you do," Chuck said tiredly.

"It occurred to me, now that you're married to that gorgeous, little wife of yours, maybe it's time for you to take a step back from Bass Industries."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Yes, because I couldn't possibly juggle a career and marriage at the same time. I'm touched by your concern."

Jack laughed. There was something in his tone that set alarm bells ringing. The annoyance was wiped from Chuck's face, and his uncle now had his complete attention.

"I'm not interested in taking a step back, Jack," Chuck said seriously. "The board has already made their decision, I'm going to be CEO. The formal announcement will come tomorrow."

"Yes, I've heard. It's just…"

"What?"

"I thought now that you had a wife to think about, it might be in your best interests to surrender Bass Industries to me."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to take everything away from you, slowly, piece by piece. I'll start with Bass Industries, and then I'll end by taking Blair. But in the spirit of fairness, I thought I'd offer you a painless way out. Give me Bass Industries, and I will never bother you again," Jack offered.

Chuck stared at his uncle, had Jack gone mad? "I appreciate your offer, but I'm going to have to decline."

"You don't want time to think it over? Talk about it with that wife of yours?"

"There's nothing to discuss."

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Chuck," Jack glowered as he stood up to leave. "I'll give you until the press conference tomorrow. But if I don't hear from you, be prepared to lose everything."

His uncle stormed out of his office and slammed the door. Chuck wondered for a moment if he should be taking Jack more seriously. Pushing on the intercom, he barked out instructions to his personal assistant.

"Micah, I need you to get me a list of all the major and minor stockholders—anyone with 10,000 shares or more. I want to see the investment portfolios of everyone on that list."

"Yes, Mr. Bass."

He reached for the phone and dialed Blair's number. He wasn't sure how amused she would be when he told her about Jack's latest visit. But then he realized how silly he was for calling her without doing any investigative work. Until he had proof that Jack had accumulated enough shares for voting power, he'd be worrying her unnecessarily. The phone was already ringing and it was too late to hang up.

"Hello, husband," Blair cheekily answered the phone. "Miss me already?"

"Mrs. Bass," he drawled with a smile. He made it a point to call her that, at least once a day. It had been just over a month, and he still never tired of how natural it sounded.

"How's your first day back at work going?"

"Just fine," he answered smoothly. He would discuss Jack's proposal with her later—but only if he found a reason to. No need to trouble her with the unpleasantness that was his uncle.

"What time should I expect you home for dinner?" Blair chirped happily.

"You sound so wifely," Chuck laughed. "I'm leaving the office around five."

"I am a wife, _your_ wife. And as lovely as it is to converse with you, Serena's waiting for me. Call me later, when you're leaving the office. I have something special planned for you."

"Does it involve you naked?"

"Maybe," Blair said coyly. "Don't forget to call."

"I won't."

"I love you, Mr. Bass."

"I love you, too, Mrs. Bass."

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**_December 2017, last year_**

"So what do you think?"

Chuck tilted his head and drew his lips into a straight line. He looked down at the portfolio in his hands and then stared back at the nervous, yet hopeful, face of his adoptive mother's stepdaughter. He waited for the tinge of guilt that never failed to surface. It didn't matter how many years had passed, or the fact that he had apologized and she had accepted—he still felt like he owed her.

"You're my last resort," Jenny said in a rush. "I think I've just about burned every bridge there is. My dad and Lily won't help, and I didn't have anyone else to turn to."

"Having burned bridges will only make things more difficult. Even if I agree to give you the loan, what guarantee do I have that I'll get my money back?" He asked.

"Because I'm talented, and my problem has never been my abilities," she answered with a hint of arrogance. "It shouldn't matter whether or not I get along with people, it doesn't change the fact that I design clothes that people want to wear."

"Yes, you don't play well with others—it's the reason for your current predicament. How will this situation be any different? How do I know that you're not going to fly off the handle because some assistant didn't follow your directions, or that the textile company didn't deliver your fabric on time, or that your seamstress is out to get you? And don't give me half-assed, cocky answers—I want the truth. You want to be taken seriously? Act like an adult."

Chuck watched as Jenny took a deep breath to compose herself. As much as it would irk Blair to admit it, Jenny's sketchbook was nearly flawless, and there were easily half a dozen pieces his wife would wear in an instant. Jenny was straddling the fine line of both edgy and classic, remarkably well. If she focused half the amount of attention to her designs as she spent coveting things that didn't belong to her, she would have established herself a long time ago.

"Because this time, it would be _mine_," Jenny finally answered. "I want this, Chuck. Being my own boss on my own schedule, just focusing on what I feel is right. It would be different without having someone looking over my shoulder, telling me that it isn't marketable or that it's too avant-garde—I would be able to work on only the things I believed in. And I know that this time if I mess up, it's really over."

"And you think I should hand you over a check without insuring that you'll be fiscally responsible? What you want to do is a lot more than just designing clothes. It's a business—have you even given thought to it? A budget? Overhead?"

"No, I haven't," she admitted. "But numbers have never been my strong suit. I came here fully prepared to work with a financial advisor of _your_ choice, who can set the budget and handle all the financial aspects without interfering on the design end. Whatever restrictions you want to place, I'm flexible about it, but I want complete creative control."

Silence.

"You of all people know what it's like, to want to make a name for yourself, prove everyone who doubted you wrong," Jenny gave one final attempt.

"I do," Chuck acknowledged.

"So, can you at least consider my proposal?" The blonde all but begged.

"I will." He glanced at his watch and stood up. He couldn't believe how long this meeting had gone. If he didn't wrap this up, he was going to be late. "My legal team will draw up the papers, and someone in accounting will contact you."

"Uhm, okay…?" She said with slight confusion.

He shook his head, she was still such a child. "Try and keep up, Little J. I've already considered the proposal, and you're not without merit. Your book is something you should be proud of—try not to let your ego get in your way this time."

As he stepped out from behind his desk and held out her portfolio to hand back to her, she surprised him by throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

"Omigod, Chuck!" Jenny gushed excitedly. "You have no idea how much I appreciate this. I promise you, whatever rules you set, I will follow them to a tee."

His hands fell limply to his side, one hand still clutching her book. He knew he should probably hug her back, but he was completely thrown off by her physical gesture of gratitude.

"Am I interrupting something?" An amused voice asked from the newly opened doorway.

Jenny dropped her arms and whirled around, while Chuck's head shot up to find Blair leaning against the door, brow raised and arms crossed.

"It's not what it looks like—," Jenny started to say.

His wife waved her hand dismissively, "If you two aren't finished, I can wait outside."

"No, Blair, really," the blonde shook her head frantically. "Please, believe—."

"You can leave now, Jenny," Chuck interrupted, forcing her to step away from him. He rolled his eyes at her nervousness and handed her back her book. "Give Micah all your contact info."

"Thank you again, Chuck. I promise, you won't regret it," she vowed. As she walked by his wife, Jenny gave her a nervous smile. "It was nice to see you, Blair."

"Have a good day, Little J," Blair smirked.

When they heard the younger woman's voice outside chirping excitedly to Chuck's personal assistant, Blair closed the door behind her and locked it. Her purse fell to the floor and she began fiddling with the belt of her coat.

"Question for you, Bass," she said as she walked towards him.

"Yes?" He asked carefully.

"Do you want to be late to lunch or not?"

"I welcome tardiness," he said with relief.

"Good," Blair smiled as she shrugged out of her coat to reveal a nearly sheer, black bra set with a matching garter belt. "I would so hate for this to go to waste."

Chuck's mouth dropped as she turned around slowly to model the scraps of fabric.

"You don't think it's a bit much?" She asked coyly.

"On the contrary," he managed to respond, as he leaned against his desk. He reached out a hand and pulled her flush against him. She was in his arms, and his lips hovered over hers. "It's perfect, just like you."

His lips had just managed to graze hers, when the intercom buzzed and Micah's voice was heard.

"Mr. Bass, your sister is on the line. Since Mrs. Bass isn't answering her phone, Serena wanted me to pass along the message that she _knows_ what you two are up to."

Chuck groaned unhappily. "Did you tell her that we were trying to get pregnant?"

"Of course not," Blair insisted. She didn't say anything else, as she seemed perfectly content to ignore the interruption. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she pulled him back down towards her. He kissed her firmly as her hands slid from his face and her fingers speared his hair. He would be more than happy to skip out on lunch, and spend the hour ensconced in his office with his wife.

"Serena also asked that you please let her know if you're planning on skipping lunch, for the third time in as many weeks," Micah interrupted once more, clearly entertained by the messages he was instructed to pass off. "And lastly, she thinks you two are a bit too _old_ for these types of games."

Blair sighed. "Your assistant has way too much job security."

"I know," Chuck muttered. "If he wasn't so damned good at his job, I would have fired him by now."

He pressed kisses against her throat, while his hands settled possessively on her waist. The sounds of pleasure his wife emitted, made him smile. His thumbs traced circular patterns as his hands slowly made their way up towards her breasts.

The intercom sounded yet again. With obvious relish, Micah informed them, "Your mother is on line two."

Chuck groaned unhappily, as he leaned over to press the button. "Please tell Lily I'll call her back."

"No need, sir. She says she expects to see you at lunch shortly, and please do not keep her nor your siblings waiting."

With another sigh, Blair leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss.

"Let me call her and cancel," Chuck said when she pulled away. "I thought we were just having lunch with Serena and her new guy?"

"She must've invited Lily and Eric yesterday. She was with me when I purchased this," Blair said sheepishly as she gestured at her scantily clad body. "Besides, you haven't seen Eric since he got back fromItaly."

"True," he agreed. "But we are in the middle of something very, very important..."

Blair reluctantly untangled herself from his arms.

"Where are you going?" He asked mournfully. He ogled her as she bent over to pick up her discarded coat and purse. "Just call Serena and tell her we'll meet them for dinner, instead."

"As much as I want to stay here with you, it's your family, so we should go," Blair said as she slid on her coat and began to button it up.

"_You_ are my family, I even married you to make it official," he tried to entice her. "And in order for us to achieve our objective—to _add_ to _our _family—copious amounts of sex is required."

Blair smiled lovingly at him.

"We're going to lunch, aren't we," Chuck stated, more than asked.

His wife nodded.

"But what will you wear to lunch?" He asked triumphantly, efforting one final time to ditch lunch.

"The dress that's hanging inside the limo," she informed him as she shook her head. "It would have wrinkled if I carried it up. Plus, you would have realized my intent, the minute I walked in carrying a garment bag."

He reached for his suit jacket as he conceded defeat. He muttered loud enough for his wife to hear, "I can't believe I'm being punished because of my adoptive family."

"If you behave, perhaps the limo ride back from lunch could be put to use," Blair offered. "You can effort to _add_ to our family then."

She held out her hand to him, which he took. He unlocked and then opened the door. The two passed by Micah without sparing him a glance.

Once they were inside the elevator, Blair asked the question he had been expecting. "What was Jenny Humphrey doing here, Chuck?"

"Asking for money," he answered.

"And?" Blair stared at him and waited for him to elaborate.

"She came prepared with a business pitch and everything," Chuck explained.

"Is it a sound investment?" She asked him curiously.

"There were things in her book that I wouldn't have hesitated to buy for you."

"Sounds like praise," she observed, her voice giving away nothing.

"I would, of course, prefer to take them off of you…But, to answer your question—yes, I think it's a good investment." He waited for her reaction.

"Ok," Blair answered agreeably as they stepped out of the elevator.

"Ok?"

"You've always had a good sense for these things, if you say it's a good investment, there's no reason for me to think otherwise, is there?"

"Of course not, and you're sure—."

She squeezed his hand, which stopped him from talking. "I'm sure."

.

.

.

_**Early April 2018**_

"Chuck?" Jenny asked as she knocked hesitantly on the door to his study. She pushed the door open slowly with her foot, as she juggled a glass of scotch for him and a glass of bourbon for her.

"What do you want?" He asked tiredly as he swiveled in his chair to face away from her.

She only caught a lightning quick glimpse of him, but she saw so much sadness and pain. Her eyes flew to his desk, in his haste to mask his emotions from her, he had left evidence. There was a photo of Chuck and Blair on their wedding day, it was an unposed candid, and you could feel their love jumping off the picture. He stood behind her, holding her against him—eyes closed, face half-buried into the side of her neck, his lips twisted into a smirk—while there was a radiant smile of contentment on Blair's face. What made the picture even more obnoxiously sweet, was that on top of all that happiness, a finger from Blair's left hand was caught stroking the back of Chuck's right hand.

Jenny shook her head, she was such a fool. She had been in this penthouse for far too long, and she had been imagining things. When Chuck had surprised her by taking her out to dinner earlier that evening to celebrate her 25th birthday, she thought that maybe he had been softening towards her. Now, she realized, it was still all part of a carefully orchestrated plan. Blair had been right, Jenny was just collateral damage. The slight flicker of emotion she had seen in his eyes during the incident at the end of their meal hadn't been disguised lust, _at all_.

_The server came into their private room to bring out the dessert Chuck had apparently ordered in advance—homemade s'mores. Jenny smiled in surprise._

"_How did you know?"_

"_I make it my business to know everything about you," he answered huskily. Meeting the eye of their waiter, Chuck issued out a command, "Please see that we have some _privacy_."_

_The insinuation had been clear, Chuck did _not_ want to be disturbed. Jenny hadn't managed to keep the flush from staining her cheeks, as she met the all-too-knowing eyes of the waiter at Gramercy Tavern. This request didn't seem to surprise him, however, but when he nodded, she could see the hint of judgment. It was only then she pieced the puzzle together, this was one of Blair's favorite restaurants, and based on the ease in which their waiter attended to Chuck's needs, he was the regular member of the staff who waited on the Basses._

_As soon as the door shut behind him, Chuck gestured for her to eat. "Happy Birthday."_

"_Thank you, Chuck," she said with a small smile. But he had already pulled out his phone and was tapping away on it. She hated being ignored, and settled for taking a bite of her dessert. From the corner of her eye, she watched as he read something on his phone, his eyes furrowing in concentration. In silence, she picked at the graham cracker, marshmallow and chocolate concoction. She noted with irony, that all of her birthdays ended up in disappointment. The last birthday party she had enjoyed was when she was twelve-years-old. It had just been her mom, her dad and Dan. It was the year they had bought her a sewing machine and Dan had written her a birthday poem. _

_Jenny let out a loud sigh at the memories of birthdays past. She looked up to find Chuck staring at her. She quickly put her fork down—she felt like a child who had been caught pushing her food around the plate. _

_"Come here," he ordered. _

_With a sigh she stood up and walked next to him. _

"_Lean over."_

_She did as requested, and blinked her eyes in surprise when Chuck's hand reached out to touch her face. Unconsciously, her eyes shut as his grip on her chin tightened a fraction, before his thumb smeared the lipstick off of her lips. Suddenly, he let go of her, and she stumbled backwards._

"_Run your hands through your hair and muss it up. Twist your dress back and forth so it looks…unkempt." She watched as he took the lipstick on his thumb, and lightly smeared it on the collar of his shirt. He then wiped the remaining lipstick onto his napkin, and brushed a hint of it onto his jaw. He looked up to find her staring at him, and for a moment, there was a glimmer of something in his eyes she couldn't discern. "Hurry up. We're leaving."_

_Jenny rushed to do as he bade, and when they left the restaurant, people unabashedly watched the two of them. She didn't know why, but her cheeks were beet red from all the eyes on her. She could practically hear the words that floated in their heads, 'slut', 'whore', 'tramp'. As was par for the course, Chuck never touched her in public—or ever, actually—and he barely even looked at her. She was normally grateful for the complete lack of physical contact, but tonight it made her feel particularly cheap. _

_They rode home in the limo in complete silence._

"What did you want, Jenny?" Chuck asked, breaking her out of her daze. "I'm actually quite busy."

"Busy staring at pictures of you with Blair?" She asked coolly as she set the glass of scotch on his desk and dropped herself into the chair across from him.

He spun his chair around quickly, and snatched the photo away from her eyes and slipped it carefully into a drawer. He glared at her angrily, while she crossed her legs and sipped on her bourbon.

"I thought we agreed we would stay out of each other's way?"

"I brought you a glass of scotch as a thank you for buying me dinner tonight," she explained. "You practically ran into this room when we got back, so I thought you could use something."

He stared at her oddly. "I'm sorry, are you…?"

"Am I what?" Jenny shrugged casually. It was a win-win situation, he'd either react badly, which would tell her all her impulses were right, or he'd take her up on her offer, and well, they would both end up with some form of release.

A look of revulsion crossed his face, and his right hand immediately went to fiddle with his bare left ring finger. "No, thank you. Please see yourself out. And if you try anything like this again, you can pack you bags and leave."

"You need me," Jenny reminded him.

"Need you?" Chuck scoffed. "I don't _need_ you."

"Why am I here, then? Why make the effort to show the world we're involved? Wouldn't it be easier to actually _be_ involved, as opposed to pretending that we are?"

"That would imply I had some desire to fuck you, which I don't. I enlisted you for your services because you were supposed to help make the process go faster. But you could walk out that door this instant, and you would have no effect on the final outcome of my plans."

As the words came out of his mouth, Jenny realized that he was being entirely truthful. He _didn't_ need her. She laughed hysterically.

"You're becoming far too much energy to expend. You were supposed to be a help, not a hindrance." Chuck sighed. "Perhaps I was too hasty. I miscalculated, it's just not in you."

Jenny looked up and really stared into his eyes. He was looking at her with sympathy—_he_ felt sorry for _her_. That was ludicrous, completely unacceptable. She stood up and headed towards the door, she had had enough—she was done.

"I'll expect you to be out of here by tomorrow," Chuck called after her.

Her hand, which hovered just above the handle, froze. How dare he turn her life upside down and then dismiss her with a pat on the head? What she wanted was answers, in fact, how had she not seen it until now? She went back and sat down the chair, and took a slow sip of her unfinished bourbon.

Chuck rolled his eyes at her, but waited for her to speak.

"You love Blair more than anything else in the world. You would give up everything for her."

"Is there a point to your stating facts?"

"I'm just curious, why are you _really_ doing this to her? I mean, why do it at all? The night you propositioned me, the only thing you told me was that you were trying to protect her. But watching you over the last couple of months, I don't see how you could call any of this protection. All I see is you hurting her—hurting _yourself_. How is any of that love?"

"When are you going to learn, little Jenny Humphrey," Chuck sneered. "That some things are none of your business. Do you want the money to start your fashion line or not? If it'll make you stop talking, I'll _give_ you a hundred grand on top of everything else. Think of it as a gift—a gift to _stop_ gabbing and _stop_ asking questions."

She paused for a moment—it appeared she had struck quite a big nerve. It had actually taken a bit longer than she had expected for all the paper work to be drawn up for her loan. She had been surprised when Chuck had called her two days before they were supposed to sign the papers. He said that there was a possibility that he could get her an even better rate than what his lawyers had quoted. Given that her loan was interest free, due to their current living arrangement, for him to offer her even more money was insane. It didn't matter if money was no object to Chuck Bass, a hundred thousand dollars was still an obscene amount. She was tempted to take the money and keep her mouth shut, but as always, curiosity got the best of her.

"No," Jenny snapped back. "You seem fixed on using me to torture Blair. There are dozens, no, possibly hundreds of other people you could use. But you're choosing_ me_, knowing that what happened all those years ago almost destroyed the two of you. So either you tell me the _why _or maybe it's time I talked to Blair. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to cut a check or loan me money, if I tell her everything I know."

"No!" Chuck yelled hoarsely.

She was stunned to see the fear in his eyes.

"Please…you _can't_ say anything to Blair," he whispered softly.

It took her breath away, the way he said Blair's name like it was a prayer. In that moment it struck her, that regardless of how fucked up this entire situation was, it was as though she were still fifteen years old, and more than anything, she wished she was Blair Waldorf—well, Blair Bass. The realization was devastating and she forced herself to focus on the present.

"Then tell me something. Give me a reason," Jenny ordered sharper than she had intended.

But Chuck didn't even notice, he was too busy staring at his hands, his eyes glassy. Finally he said, "Hope is paralyzing."*

"What?" Jenny stared at him blankly.

"As long as Blair has even one miniscule sliver of hope that I still love her—she will never give up. She will concede that this is a very fucked up game, and then she will let me spend the rest of my life making it up to her.** But it will be worth it, because _we_ will always be worth it. She will fight until her dying breath for _us_."

Life was just not fair. Jenny had never spoken about it with another soul, but the night she lost her virginity, the night she had slept with Chuck, it was the moment she knew she wanted to be on the receiving end of what Chuck felt for Blair. It wasn't Chuck that she wanted, but wanting to know what it felt like to be loved so completely. She spent the past eight years seeking it out—but true love proved to be ever so elusive, and her never-ending need to be the It Girl hadn't helped. At the end of each relationship, which had begun with the excitement of endless possibilities, she would wind up alone, curled up in her bed and wondering if she would ever find her own version of Chuck Bass. Suddenly she was filled with so much anger and the injustice of it all.

"God, do you have any idea how lucky you are? You found the one person who makes everything in the world make sense, the one person who makes everything in life worthwhile. And yet you're orchestrating a highly convoluted charade to make her suffer. For what? To protect her from yourself? Protect her from loving you _too much_? Is this all just some elaborate ruse because you need to know just how much she loves you? Prove you can get her back, no matter what? You're _sick_!"

"When will you get it? Everything I'm doing is to protect her! As long as she's with me, I can't keep her _safe_!" He exploded on her.

Jenny jumped in her seat, startled not by the intensity of his words but from the helplessness in his eyes.

"W-wha-what are you talking?" She stuttered.

"You think that I would actually go to all this trouble, concoct this entire scheme, if it was just a _game_? God, how dense can you be? This is her _life_ we're talking about. My uncle is trying to destroy me, and he knows that Blair is my ultimate weakness, that there is nothing I wouldn't do for her. Blair had an appointment with her doctor, to confirm that she was pregnant, and Jack got to her. He bribed her doctor and had our baby killed. The doctor told her that she had some sort of infection, so she doesn't even realize what's happened. That's how close I've come to losing her—our child is already gone because of me, but I will _not_ let anything else happen to Blair."

And that was when Jenny knew, that's when she finally got it—the only thing Chuck Bass _needed_ in the world was to keep Blair Bass safe and alive.

.

.

.

_**tbc**_

* * *

><p>* from To Hell… – 4x25<p>

** from Nameless, Faceless – 5x01


	3. 100

_**September 26, 2018—Present***_

Jack's phone rang loudly, and he removed it from his pocket. He had to hand it to Chuck, he was nothing, if not punctual. He ignored the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket, watching as Blair looked around the rows of empty cubicles on the abandoned floor of Bass Industries. Jack locked the door behind him, smirking in satisfaction. Chuck and Blair would always be both each other's biggest asset and liability.

"Where is he?" She spun around and asked furiously.

Jack's phone began to ring again, and he held a hand up to silence her.

"Hello, nephew."

"If you so much as a lay a finger on her, I swear I'll—."

"You'll what? Hold on a second, someone wants to speak to you." Jack laughed cruelly. He pushed the speaker button and turned towards Blair, offering her his phone.

She glared at him, but the faint sound of Chuck's voice hissing his uncle's name was heard clearly. She snatched the phone from him.

"Chuck, you're ok?" Blair said worriedly.

"I'm fine." Chuck's voice sounded strangled.

Jack pulled out a chair, and sat back to watch the show.

"Don't lie to me, I know you're not. Where are you, Chuck? Tell me where you are, and we'll figure this out, _together_," she pleaded.

"I'm at The Empire," Chuck said quietly. "Where are you?"

"Bass Industries. But Jack said that you were…"

For the second time in the past hour, Jack watched the color drain from Blair's face. She stared directly at him, which made him smile widely as he pulled out a large, black handgun and casually dangled it on his forefinger.

"Oh, Chuck," Blair whispered softly.

"He can hear us, right?"

"Yes."

"Blair, you are the strongest person I know, and I need you to be even stronger right now. Don't show him any fear."

"I won't," she said as she wiped away a tear. "You should have told me."

"There didn't seem to be any other choice, it was the only way I thought I could keep you safe," Chuck's voice was full of emotion and sorrow.

"Nephew, _now_ is not the time for you to be lying to your wife. You sure you don't want to tell her about the deal I offered you?"

"What is he talking about, Chuck?"

"Don't believe him, Blair. He's trying to manipulate the situation, spin truths. He's wants to hurt you—make you angry."

Blair's eyes moved from the gun and up to meet Jack's gaze. Her face was a combination of confusion and tears.

"Well, actually, I think Blair should be angry—furious, even," Jack drawled. "After all, she's going to _die_ because of your inflated ego."

"Don't listen to him."

Jack stared at Blair. "You know, all he had to do was give me Bass Industries and you wouldn't have been in this mess. He wouldn't have ever had to stage leaving you, or pretend to be fucking that Humphrey girl—none of it."

"Don't react," Chuck begged.

"Is it true, Chuck?" Blair asked through her sniffles.

"Yes," he answered hoarsely.

Jack waited for the rage to bubble up within her, for her to yell at Chuck, but instead, her eyes turned steely and cold as she glared at him.

"Good. Because the last thing you should've done is given into him. Never negotiate with terrorists," Blair said pithily.

"No, I should've, you are the most important thing to me. If I had known he would do this, if I had known he was capable of going this far—I would've have given him anything."

But Blair was just getting started. "Chuck, it wouldn't have mattered, he never would have left us alone. He would've just kept coming back until he robbed you of everything, and we'd still be right where we are now."

Jack's jaw twitched with anger, _this_ was not part of his plan. He had expected Blair to be enraged by Chuck's inability to sacrifice the business for her, _again_. But instead, she had seen right through the situation, and channeled her anger towards him.

"I know you didn't sign up for this," Chuck started to say.

"Neither did you," Blair interrupted. "I don't blame you, Chuck. You don't get to choose your family."

"I'm so sorry, Blair."

"Me, too."

"I love you, so much."

"I wish you were here with me, now. I don't want Jack to be the last thing I see."

Blair's words triggered an idea. If she thought this was bad, well, then Jack would do her one worse.

.

.

.

_**Third week of February 2018**_

"Oh please, don't act like you suddenly lost the complete obsession and fascination you've had with Blair since you were sixteen," Jack sneered.

"You're right, but only to an extent," Chuck acknowledged. "What you fail to realize is that you've shown me something that I had long forgotten. As much as I love Blair, there's one person I love much more than her—_me_. So, really, Uncle Jack, I should be thanking you."

"Thanking me for what?" Jack said as his eyes narrowed suspiciously. But as he catalogued each and every nuanced detail of his nephew's face, he saw nothing but calmness, a sense of indifference. There was no way that Chuck could rid himself of his—_love_, Jack thought with a sneer—for Blair. "You're lying."

"On the contrary, you'll find I'm telling the truth. You see, when you terminated Blair's pregnancy it made me realize why my father had made it to the top. He was ruthless, and as we both know, he wasn't terribly fond of me."

"I'd say leaving you Bass Industries would counter that point," Jack stated bitterly. He still smarted that his own brother would leave a billion dollar enterprise to a teenage son, whose idea of responsibility was slipping on a condom or bribing an officer to look the other way.

Chuck shrugged. "Think about it, his choice was _you_ or me. He chose me, because Bart was narcissistic. He relied on the fact that I would inherit his acumen for business. Besides, is there any better masturbatory way than to leave the company you built from nothing to your one and only son?"

Jack eyed the younger man, but said nothing as he waited for him to continue his speech.

"The point is, he could spare me little attention and even less time. There was no discernible weakness you could find in my father. And that's what your little experiment made me realize, Blair is a liability, as would be any child we had. We both know that by the time this war between us is said and done, only one of us will be standing—Blair was going to end up being collateral damage, either now or later. Besides, it's been over a decade since I had the luxury of only thinking about myself."

"So, if I were to hurt Blair, physically…?"

A glimmer of sadness flickered in Chuck's eyes, but it was _just_ that—a glimmer. "I would feel bad that any harm had come to her, but unfortunately for her, she is no longer my concern. I'm serving her with divorce papers tomorrow."

Everything Chuck did and said seemed on par with his words. Maybe it was the romantic in Jack that had been buried so far and so deep, he often forgot that part of him existed, but he just couldn't _believe_ that Chuck would choose himself. There was too much surveillance material proving otherwise. If you looked closely enough, Chuck's entire life revolved around Blair. No, Jack realized with relish, he knew what this was. His nephew was punishing himself because their baby had been stolen from right under his nose. All of this was for show, especially the Humphrey girl, who Chuck couldn't even stomach looking at.

Jack smiled. Once again, Chuck had tipped his hand. A slight change of plans were in order, it would add more fun to prolong the inevitable, knowing that Chuck was dying on the inside being without Blair. Yes, he would let his nephew think he had shifted his focus on to other things. He was going to enjoy taking Blair from Chuck, when he least expected it.

.

.

.

_**Second week of September 2018**_

"You sure know how to make a guy feel used."

Blair looked up to find Nate staring at her from the doorway. She shrugged indifferently and then resumed looking at the magazine on her lap.

"You're welcome, for picking you up at the airport and helping you carry your bags upstairs," he hinted as he made his way to the settee she was stretched out on, and leaned against it.

"What do you what, a cookie? Call for Dorota and have her bring you a plate," Blair said snidely. "If you're lucky, maybe she'll even bring you some milk."

He leaned over and snatched the magazine from her, and gave her a puppy dog look.

"What?" She huffed.

"You still haven't said hello. Not to mention, I'm starting to take offense that you're treating me like I'm the help."

"Fine." Blair gave him a thin smile, and in a voice dripping with saccharine sweetness, she said, "Oh, Nate! It was so wonderful of you to pick me up at the airport, even though I intentionally didn't ask you to. And thank you for following me around like a stalker and coming into my home uninvited."

"Buh-laaaair," Nate whined in the voice she had abhorred when they were younger. She had actually banished him from saying her name like that as soon as they had started dating in seventh grade. She cringed at the sound and gave him a look of disgust. Nate looked quite pleased with himself for provoking her response.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she said haughtily.

"Why are you being like this? Did I do something? Are you mad at me?" Nate asked, the humor in his voice was quickly replaced with concern.

"I don't know," Blair said snippily. "Is there a reason I _should_ be mad at you?"

"Is this about Chuck?" Nate said slowly.

She refused to meet his gaze.

"Hey," Nate said softly as he couched down so he was eye level with her. When she turned her head, he reached out and gently tipped her face towards his. She closed her eyes in protest. "He's my best friend, Blair, I'm not going to abandon him."

"I never suggested that you do. But excuse me if I'm not on pins and needles, wanting to hear how you spent all night playing darts and shooting pool, or wax poetic that his living at The Empire feels like college all over again," she said bitterly.

"How else am I supposed to get him to let his guard down long enough to tell me what happened?" Nate asked with a touch of exasperation.

"I don't know, maybe _asking_ him what was so important that he could walk out on our marriage? Did you think about that?" Blair tried to keep her voice from reaching a screeching level.

"I'm lucky he's even talking to me at all. And I already told you, if I mention your name, he's going to shut me out again. I love you, Blair, but I am not going to go another seven months without talking to my best friend."

"No, heaven forbid you be without your _boyfriend_. Obviously some bonds are much more sacred than marriage," Blair said sarcastically. But it was all for show, she wanted to hug Nate for being such a good friend to her idiot husband—especially since Chuck didn't deserve it right now.

The months passed by and Chuck had easily managed to avoid her—except the one time she had seen him at Gilt, purely by chance. _Not_ that she had tried to see him, her pride demanded he come to her. And confronting Jenny technically didn't count, seeing as she had been Blair's target, not Chuck. But it had been six months since that horrible night in January, and she had begun to feel suffocated in Manhattan. On a whim, she had decided to seek solace for a month in Lyon with her father and Roman. Her mother and Cyrus had driven down from Paris on the weekends, but mostly she had been left to her own devices.

She wondered if she wasn't going a little crazy. More and more she found herself questioning why she had avoided starting a family with Chuck. It was years later, yet the memory of the doctor telling her she had lost her baby due to the impact of the car accident was still fresh in her mind. The loss had engulfed her with so much pain that it had taken over a year for her to piece herself back together. Chuck had been her rock during that time, even though she had done everything to push him away—she had even gone so far as to accuse him being responsible for her loss, but he had never given up. He had already been blaming himself for her miscarriage, and served his self-inflicted penance by accepting the role as the target of her rage. When the darkness had faded, and Blair was finally afforded some clarity, she knew she was tired of being lost. Chuck was home to her, and when she had gone to him, Blair knew she would never leave him again.

"Hello." Nate waved a hand in front of her face, snapping her out of her reverie. Blair looked at him blankly, as she tried to remember what it was they had been talking about. But before she could apologize for drifting off, Nate looked at her with surprise. "When did you stop wearing your rings?"

Blair schooled her features to remain expressionless. She didn't know why she was even surprised, Nate had the uncanny ability of noticing the smallest detail as the most random moment. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He scowled at her. "You're not wearing your wedding ring, or your engagement ring, for that matter. What prompted this change?"

"I got bored with them. That happens you know, when you get used to something and see it everyday, sometimes you start taking it for granted," she said glibly. "I haven't taken my wedding band off in almost three years, and I've worn my engagement ring almost every day for four. I wanted to see what it would feel like to wear something different, or maybe wear nothing at all."

"Are you hoping to provoke a reaction from Chuck?" Nate asked all too knowingly.

"I just wanted a change," she countered.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head.

"But _if_, and only _if_ you wanted to, you know I'm here for you, right?"

Blair gave him a genuine smile. "Nate Archibald, I hope the woman who gets to keep you, deserves you. And if she doesn't, I'm going to have to destroy her for hurting my dearest friend."

"I hope she does too," Nate said with a bittersweet smile. Then he muttered under his breath, words Blair almost didn't make out. "But she'd actually have to pick _me_, first."

"Is there something or someone _you _want to talk about?" Blair offered. She wondered if her instincts were right, and that she knew who he was referring to.

It was Nate's turn to shake his head. "No, but there is something going on with Chuck that I wanted to talk to you about."

Her heart skipped a beat at Nate's words, and then began to pound loudly as she watched him stand up and pace back and forth across the length of the room. Just as she was about to ask him to sit down, he whirled around and stared at her intently.

"Chuck has been spending a _lot _of time with Jack," Nate announced, holding up a hand to preemptively stop her from interrupting. "If I didn't know better, I would think he was preparing to hand over the reins of Bass Industries for Jack to take over."

"He wouldn't do that," Blair denied fervently. "He doesn't trust Jack."

"That's what I thought, too," Nate said. "But then I overheard him on the phone two days ago, telling Jack that everything had been set in motion for the deal to go through as planned."

"What deal?"

"I have no clue. I tried snooping around, but Chuck's become really paranoid. He keeps all his documents locked in his briefcase. He never leaves _anything_ lying around. One time he left out a piece of paper and I peeked at it. It was a note to _me_, it said, 'You're not going to find anything Archibald.'"

Blair and Nate exchanged smiles briefly, it sounded exactly like something _their _Chuck would do.

"But last night, Jack showed up at The Empire, and Chuck asked me to leave," Nate continued. "And if I didn't know Chuck, I would have thought that he and Jack were the best of friends."

"That makes no sense. There's no way Chuck would willingly hand over what he's spent years working for. It's his last connection to Bart…I honestly can't think of a single thing he'd pick over Bass Industries," Blair said with certainty.

"I don't know what else to tell you, Blair," Nate said quietly, as he sat down next to her. "But I think it's safe to say that Chuck and Jack are working _together_."

Blair didn't know what to think. She had thought with Nate having been readmitted into Chuck's confidence, it would shed some light into her husband's psyche. Instead, she was left with even more questions, with no explanation in sight.

.

.

.

_**Third week of January 2018**_

The door creaked open and he turned on the lamp. The woman entering jumped back and let out a gasp of surprise. Her head whipped around and her eyes met his. He could feel the terror and fear radiating off of her.

"Close the door," he commanded.

Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with the door knob. When she had finally managed to shut the door, her eyes moved frantically around the room, trying to discern if anyone else was in her home. Her voice shook as she managed to get her words out. "I know you want answers, but my son—."

"Was picked up by his father over an hour ago," he cut in icily. "It's just you and me."

A flicker of relief flashed across her face, but the fear quickly returned. "Mr. Bass, I—."

His raised hand silenced her. The vein in his temple was throbbing. He didn't want to hear her excuses, he needed the truth. He gestured for her to sit in the chair adjacent to his. She did as he bade, but the irony was not lost on either of them—he had broken into her home, yet he was acting the part of host.

He waited until her eyes finally met his, before he asked her the question that burned in his mind—her answer was going to dictate his future. "Dr. Ruggio, is it true that you performed an abortion on my wife nine days ago, without her knowledge or her consent?"

Janet Ruggio bit her lip, and that's when he knew—Jack had _not_ lied. The anguish that flooded him provoked a reaction he could not control.

"You killed my baby!" Chuck roared at the top of his lungs as he slammed a hand onto her desk.

"Mr. Bass, you have to understand," the doctor begged as the tears welled in her eyes. "Your uncle kidnapped my son, and held him hostage. He told me if I didn't do as he ordered, I would never see Michael again, and I couldn't risk that."

"I find that hard to believe considering the quarter of a million dollar wire transfer that went into your account the same day," Chuck snapped as he tried to rein in his emotions.

"I didn't want the money, it's blood money," she insisted. With desperation she said, "Please, take it, I'll give it to you. Jack said that you wouldn't believe him without the paper trail."

Tears were streaking down her cheeks and she lunged across the desk to grab his hand. He felt as though he had been scalded and jerked away from her touch.

"I made an oath," she whispered.

"And then you broke it," Chuck's voice cracked like a whip.

"I know," she cried brokenly. "But Michael is my son, and as his mother, it's my job to protect him. I had to make a choice, it was either my child or yours."

Her words made him stumble backwards, it was said with such selflessness and it somehow managed to both enrage and instill more pain in him all at once. He wanted to say something, _anything_, but he couldn't move past the thought that he had already failed the child he lost.

"You can't even begin to comprehend just how sorry I am," she sobbed as she wiped her nose with the sleeve of her blouse. "But Mrs. Bass will never have to know. It's better this way, for her. She won't know she lost another child, and she can't miss what she didn't know she had."

"But, _I_ can? You expect me to keep this a secret from my wife?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bass," Janet said, her voice full of remorse.

There was nothing more he could say or do, it had already been done. His child had been stolen, and he had been helpless to do anything about it. For the second time in her life, Blair had been robbed of her child. He would never forgive himself for not taking Jack's threat more seriously. He stood up and walked out the door without a glance back.

Only when he was inside his limo did he loosen his necktie as he gasped for air, the weight of knowledge crashing down on him. When he finally caught his breath minutes later, he still hadn't realized he was crying.

.

.

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_**September 26, 2018—Present****_

"I'm so sorry, Blair."

"Me, too."

"I love you, so much."

"I wish you were here with me, now. I don't want Jack to be the last thing I see."

Blair couldn't stop the tears from falling down her face. She wanted to be strong, she wanted to be brave. She didn't want to give Jack the satisfaction that he had won this battle. She would not die letting Jack think he succeeded in destroying their love for one another. She wished it hadn't been this way, she wished Chuck had given her the choice to stay with him. Then the nightmare that had been this year, would never have happened.

The sound of the chair scraping alerted her to the fact that Jack had stood up, and was circling her in a predatory manner. The near maniacal look on his face sent a tremor of fear down her back. But she focused on the only thing that mattered—_Chuck_.

"It's our anniversary, today. Do you remember our wedding?" She asked.

"Like it was yesterday," Chuck said, his voice faltering. "The happiest day of my life."

"Will you repeat the vows you made to me?"

"Now?"

"Please," Blair whispered.

"I, Charles Bartholomew Bass, take you, Blair Cornelia Waldorf," Chuck paused as he gasped for air. A beat later he continued, "To be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health…"

The hiccupped sob that escaped him was heart wrenching, and she stifled her own. When he could not continue, she picked up where he had left off, as she blinked away her tears. "To love and to cherish, from this day forward, until death do us part."

The silence between them was crushing. The realization that the eternity they had counted on was to end decades sooner than they had imagined. Suddenly, Blair felt the cool nuzzle of the gun brush against the side of her face and down her neck. She struggled not to flinch as Jack's breath danced near her ear. She closed her eyes, and steeled herself for the inevitable. Blair's voice quivered as she made her final request, "Tell me, Chuck, tell me you love me. I want that to be the last thing I hear."

"Blair, I lo—."

_Bang. _

.

.

.

_**tbc**_

* * *

><p>* and ** both scenes were heavily inspiredbased on 100 – 5x09


	4. Remembrance of Things Past

_**November 2016, two years earlier**_

"You're being terribly annoying," Blair observed.

"The same could be said for you."

"If anyone has the right to be upset, it's _me_."

"The eight stitches on my left foot, begs to differ," Chuck said wryly.

"You deserved them," Blair said unapologetically. "But despite that, we're here, aren't we? You said I could make it up to you if we went shopping together, and you've been sulking like a child for the past ten minutes."

"I'm the one sulking like a child? You're the one who's made it abundantly clear how much you don't want to be here. You're not doing any of the things you normally do which makes shopping with you so enjoyable," he scowled.

She stopped flipping through the rack of clothes and cocked her head to stare at him. "What do I 'normally' do that I'm not doing now?" She asked innocently

He felt the flush of red color his cheeks, he hadn't meant to say the last part out loud.

Blair turned towards him, and slid her hands up his chest, smoothing the lapels of his suit jacket. "Cat got your tongue, Bass?"

Chuck turned his head and looked away. He could hear the laughter in her voice, and it made him even less inclined to divulge his secret. It was one of those funny things, after all these years, he had never told her the actual reason why he took such pleasure in going shopping with her. She had always assumed his reasons were the combination of his own love for clothes, coupled with their rather amorous dressing room escapades. But truthfully, it was the whole experience, starting with the way she usually held his hand.

It was such an innocent thrill, the way her fingers would tug on his if he walked too quickly, or when he lingered behind. There was an array of expressions that would flit across her face as she catalogued everything in the room, or when she held up a dress to ask for his opinion. Then there was the way she would insist on finding something for him, even if it was just a bow tie that matched her new dress. Of course, watching her undress to try on potential items to purchase was the icing on the cake. And if jewelry was involved, he loved the way she would still flirt with him—more often than not, teasing him with the nape of her neck as she modeled pieces for him. Shopping together, which they only did a couple times each year, never failed to make him feel like the quintessential boyfriend—and now, husband.

"What you're doing now would qualify as unpleasant," he countered. "If you're not even going to try, we might as well leave."

"I can't believe this. You were the one who wanted to come here," Blair scoffed. "Now you're mad because I'm not doing whatever it is I normally do _and _you're not going to tell me what it is?"

"You are such a brat sometimes."

"And you're a moody bitch."

"Let's go home," he snapped.

"Does this mean I'm off the hook for the stitches? Because I don't want to find out later that you're still mad about it and then be blamed for sabotaging this shopping expedition. And I still think it is _ridiculous_ that I have to make up for something that _you_ started to begin with," Blair argued.

"Did I step on my own foot with your four inch stiletto?" He asked incredulously.

"It's not my fault that you didn't choose to wear armor when you told me the news," she said snippily. "You should know better. Why would you approach me barefooted, knowing that I'm prone to exercising my foot when you say stupid things?"

"Well, no one could accuse you of being unpredictable or having matured since you were seventeen, now could they?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"So now I'm _boring_?" Blair's voice shrilled louder than intended.

"Don't put words in my mouth," Chuck said sharply.

"It's good to know I'm approaching the expiration date of my shelf life. Who would've thought I would last as long as I did anyway?" She asked icily. She turned on her heel and headed towards the escalators.

"Where are you going?"

"You said you wanted to go home, so let's go," she answered sullenly.

Blair kept walking and Chuck could do nothing but follow. Determined to salvage the day, he picked up his pace and reached for her hand, but she snatched it back before he could get a grip. When he took a step closer towards her, she would inch away. This continued on as they went down floor after floor, and her brisk pace kept him from catching her inside the store.

But when she was just steps away from the limo, he caught up to her and grabbed her left hand, holding it firmly.

"What?" Blair snapped as she tried to pull her hand away.

Instead of answering, he kissed her ring finger. He looked at her and said, "You are the most fascinating person I know. And even if you weren't, I would rather spend an eternity being bored with you, than a life of excitement without you."

Her eyes softened and her fingers curled around his. "I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?" He teased.

"Say something obnoxiously sweet, so I can't be mad at you. And I deserve to be mad at you," Blair pouted.

"You know I'm not happy about this either."

"You can't just give me three days notice that you're leaving for a business trip and that you'll miss my birthday."

"I'll be back by ten o'clock," he tried to rationalize. "We'll still spend part of it together."

"It's not the same."

"Do you want me to tell the Board that I can't leave because I'm going to miss my wife's birthday?"

"That's exactly what you should tell them," Blair said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You can't have them thinking you love the company more than you love me."

"There is not one person who could possibly think that," he reassured her. "Is that what you really want?"

"Yes," she spat childishly. A moment later, in a quiet voice, she said, "But you're not only missing my birthday, you're going to miss our anniversary*."

He pulled her into his arms and held her against him, his hands rubbing her back soothingly. "I know that and I'm sorry. Even though my first year as CEO is finished, it still feels like I'm being watched. It's the only reason I said yes. Let me make some calls, I'll reschedule the meeting or send someone else."

She rested her head on his chest at his words. Her gesture eased the tension in his body, and he knew he had said the right thing.

"Why don't you take me with you, instead?" Blair offered after a long stretch of silence. "That way you don't have to rush back, only to catch _part_ of my birthday."

"You really want to spend three days in Texas? Complaining about how just because things there are bigger, doesn't mean they're better—especially the hair? And don't forget, Serena's throwing you a party…" he reminded her, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

Blair scrunched up her face. "All very valid points, Chuck, but you seem to be missing the obvious." She placed her hand on his cheek and lovingly said, "The only thing I want, is to be with you."

"You're perfect, you know that?" He asked her, his lips curving into a smile.

"I know," she acknowledged. "That's why I let you marry me."

Chuck bent down and brushed his lips against hers.

"Did you know our limo is only about three steps away?" Blair hinted shamelessly.

"You are the best wife, _ever_," he informed her as scooped her up in his arms and carried her into the limo.

"And don't you forget it," Blair smirked as she straddled his lap after the doors closed.

The last thought Chuck had before her lips touched his was that his life couldn't be any better.

.

.

.

_**Second week of January 2018**_

"So how was your appointment with Dr. Ruggio?" Chuck asked casually, trying to tamp down the nervous excitement he felt.

"Promise me, you won't be upset?" Blair asked in a small voice.

His heart dropped. "Of course not."

"I'm sorry, it was a false alarm. I'm not pregnant."

"Well," he said with a loud sigh. "I suppose we'll have to keep trying. What a chore—I'm going to have to keep having my way with you, every chance I get. The horror."

The laugh that escaped from Blair sounded like one of relief. All of a sudden, a flood of guilt ran through Chuck. As much as he was looking forward to starting a family, the last thing he wanted was for Blair to feel pressured about it.

"You know we have all the time in the world, don't you?" Chuck said softly. He hated that he was across the world having this conversation over the phone. "We're on no one's schedule, except for our own."

"But I know how much you want a baby…" Blair trailed off.

"I want _us_ to have a baby," he clarified. "But we already have each other, and so I don't _need_ anything else. If you're not ready to go through this, we can talk about it when I get home."

"I _want _to, Chuck, I promise," she sniffled.

"Then I guess we'll have to try harder. I'll require sex at least a dozen times a day," he deadpanned.

Blair snorted. "You'd have to be able to _rise_ to the challenge, in order for that to happen."

"Perhaps, I should get on the first plane home if you're going to challenge my virility."

"As much as I'd love to see you try, it would do you no good to get home early. Dr. Ruggio said I had some sort of infection, and she did a biopsy. She gave me some antibiotics and said no sex for a whole week. I don't think you could have timed your trip any better, if you tried," Blair informed him.

"A biopsy? What does she think it is? Should you see a specialist?" His voice was full of concern.

"She wanted to be precautionary—said she didn't want to have two Basses mad at her."

"I knew there was a reason why I liked her."

.

.

.

_**Second week of August 2018, late afternoon**_

"And here I thought it was just a rumor that you moved back in here," Nate's voice sliced through the quiet penthouse at The Empire.

Chuck's eyes closed and his back stiffened. How the fuck did Nate get past his security detail? Better yet, how had Nate found out he was staying here so quickly?

"I still have the key, in case you're wondering. In your rush to break your marital vows, you seem to forget that I'm still your best friend—hence, you failed to remove me from the 'Authorized Personnel' lists from when we lived here together."

He took a deep breath and turned around and greeted his friend coolly, "Nathaniel."

"Charles," Nate mimicked back as he leaned against the doorway.

He knew he must be slipping if he could forget such an important detail as revoking Nate's privileges. Being away from Blair was taking a toll on him, and with Jack being even more squirrely than usual, Chuck was becoming unfrayed. He reached over and casually gathered the surveillance photos that had been delivered a half hour ago, and slid them back into a file. The last thing he needed was for Nate to get clued in that there was something bigger going on than what Chuck wanted the outside world to think.

"Any particular reason for this visit?" Chuck asked indifferently as he collected the folders and locked them into his briefcase.

"Are we really playing this game, right now?" Nate asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not playing a game. But by all means, if you want…play with yourself."

Nate stared at him with such an intensity, Chuck had to command himself not to divert his eyes from such careful scrutiny. Then suddenly, Nate shook his head, and concern washed over his face. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"Can you give me more to go on than that?"

"No."

"Are you trying to make this difficult for me?"

"Yes."

"Blair's convinced this is all an elaborate ruse, and that you might be in trouble."

Hearing her name out loud caused his heart to skip. He counted to ten before he answered. "Couldn't be further from the truth."

"You're being a dick."

"You are more than welcome to leave. In fact, I'd prefer it," Chuck wasn't able to keep the slight hopefulness out of his voice.

"I don't plan on leaving anytime soon," Nate answered stubbornly. He pushed off the wall and headed straight for the bar.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," Chuck said sarcastically. He watched as Nate pulled out a couple of tumblers and poured a generous splash of scotch into each.

"You look like you could use a drink," Nate said as he stretched out his arm and offered him one of the glasses.

Chuck took the drink, mock toasted his friend and drained the glass. The burn at the back of his throat was a welcome sensation. Since he moved in two days ago, he had been free to run himself ragged. He had felt the need to project an appearance of calm to Jenny, she already knew far too much and was entirely too observant for her own good. It had been a relief when she asked him last week if he would release her from their arrangement. As luck would have it, she had met someone, and she was terrified she would mess things up or end up giving away his secret. He had agreed that it would be best for all of them if he was the one to vacate the premises. Having had left Jenny in a situation where she had been almost as isolated as he was, he generously told her she could stay at the condo for the remainder of the year.

His eyes opened to the sound of more scotch being poured into his glass. He looked at Nate and raised a brow.

"Listen," Nate said with a sigh. "I don't know why you're doing this to Blair. But whatever the reason, I'm sure it's not good enough. _However_, you know how long we've been best friends, so don't shut me out."

"You sound oddly sentimental," he said sardonically. But he wouldn't deny how the words warmed his heart. "I don't want you here if you're going to report back to Blair and spy on me for her."

"You're married to her," Nate smiled wryly. "You know her interrogation tactics better than anyone. I will endeavor to keep all answers to a simple 'yes' or 'no'."

"I don't want to talk about her or any of it," Chuck warned. "And the minute you try to be clever, you and your shiny hair can see yourself out."

Nate hesitated for a moment. "Can I just say _one_ thing? It'll be brief and to the point."

"Hurry up."

"Ok." Nate took a deep breath, placed his tumbler on the bar and took a swing at him.

The blow took Chuck completely by surprise. He stumbled backwards, and his hand instinctively went to cover the left side of his face. It hurt like hell. "What the fuck?"

"That was for Blair," Nate said calmly, even though he cringed slightly as he shook his right hand. "Is the PlayStation hooked up?"

"No," Chuck spat out.

Nate made a face. "Go call room service and order us some food while I set it up."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Now that that's out of my system, I can abide by your rules." Nate wasn't even looking at him. He was already across the room pulling the game console out of its box.

Chuck stared at his friend's back for a moment. With a sigh, he asked, "The usual? Extra pickles?"

"Extra pickles."

Chuck walked over to the phone across the room, a genuine smile crossed his face for the first time in months. This was the least lonely he had felt since this all started over six months ago. He had more than deserved the punch Nate had given him, but he did not deserve Nate's kindness.

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.

.

_**Second week of August 2018, lunchtime**_

"Hey, Nate," Serena said as she gave him a warm hug hello.

"Have you heard from her?" Nate asked worriedly.

"No," Serena shook her head.

Nate let out a long sigh, as he waited for Serena to give her order to the waitress. He absently stirred the cup of coffee in front of him.

"But I did manage to get a hold of Harold, and he said that all things considered, she seems fine."

"I get that she wants to escape for a little bit, but did she have to disappear in the middle of the night? Couldn't she tell us that she was visiting her father, like any normal person would?" Nate asked with exasperation.

"Well then she wouldn't be Blair Waldorf, now would she?" Serena asked with a half-smile.

"Bass, Blair Bass," Nate automatically corrected. He scowled after he cursed himself.

"I take it that means you still haven't talked to Chuck?"

"There's a reason they worked as a couple, they're both entirely too annoying and too stubborn for anyone else to put up with," Nate snapped. "Chuck and I have never gone this long without talking, _ever_."

"Hey, legally I'm his sister, and he won't speak to me either. Or Eric. Or my mom. He isn't talking to anyone."

"It's not the same," Nate insisted. "I know you're technically family and all, but me and Chuck, it's _different_."

Serena arched a brow. "What about during senior year when you refused to talk to him for months? Or when you found out about him and Blair, junior year? Or the time in fifth grade when he—."

Nate's glare managed to silence her, but only temporarily.

"I'm just saying that no one is happy about the way Chuck has distanced himself. Or happy with what he's doing to Blair, for that matter."

"Ha!" Nate said triumphantly. "_That_ is my point, I think he's being moronic, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop being his friend. I mean, I'm going to punch him—just once, for Blair's sake. But after that, I can't _not_ be his friend. He should know this by now, we've been best friends forever…Are you even listening to me?"

Serena's focus was completely elsewhere. In fact, she was staring just beyond him, her eyes squinting as though she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Both annoyed and curious, Nate turned around to find what had captivated her attention.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?" He nearly exploded. He was half out of his seat, when Serena reached over and grabbed his arm.

"Nate," she hissed. "Don't cause a scene. Besides what would you even say?"

"That little bitch," Nate said with emphasis, as he pointed to the woman in question, before he sat back down. "Has ruined the marriage between two of my best friends, and now she's publicly fawning all over someone _else_?"

"So wait, are you mad at her because she might be cheating on Chuck?" Serena asked incredulously. "How does that even make sense?"

"No! I am just so fucking tired of the Humphreys playing a starring role in messing up our relationships, without there being any consequences," Nate snapped angrily. "She shouldn't get to move on and look that happy, while there's carnage everywhere."

"Humphreys? You mean _both _Jenny and Dan? And what do you mean _our_ relationships?"

"Somewhere on the timeline, I can guarantee that either Dan or Jenny, or even _both_ of them had something to do with a rift or even a break up," he clarified. "They have involved themselves in every possible combination of our relationships—as in, yours and mine. Blair's and mine. Chuck's and mine. Chuck's and Blair's. You and Chuck. You and Blair. So excuse me, if I've just about had enough."

Serena wisely said nothing. Nate was right and she _knew_ it.

"Which, thanks by the way. If you and Chuck could have not slept with them, it would have made not only your own, but both Blair and my lives, so much easier," he rudely added.

"At least Chuck and I aren't the ones who've slept with _each other_," Serena defended herself. "Blair didn't have to sleep with both you and Chuck, just like you didn't have to sleep with both me and Blair."

"Yes, but my sleeping with Blair isn't what cost me _you_," Nate said bitterly as he looked away. "You always let Dan get in the way of us, and for what, so he could end up obsessing over Blair?"

"Nate…" Serena started to say.

"But you didn't come back for me, right?" He interrupted cruelly, reliving the hurt all over again.

She froze, her eyes full of sorrow. Clearly, there were still some unresolved issues regarding this topic on his part. However, now was not the time to rehash it. He stood up abruptly.

Serena reached out for his hand. "Please, Nate, think about Blair."

He made his way across the Russian Tea Room and plopped down loudly into the booth that Jenny was sharing with some nameless man.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"Nate?" Jenny said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Perhaps the better question would be if Chuck knows you're here, and with whom?"

The dark haired man sitting next to Jenny, narrowed his eyes as he put a protective arm around her.

Jenny tilted her head and asked Nate with confusion, "Why would Chuck know or care?"

"I don't know, maybe because you're _living_ with him?" Nate turned his focus to the stranger. "Did you know that Jenny is _quite_ the home wrecker. She's been involved with at least three of Blair's breakups and a couple of mine. Blair is the wife of the man Jenny's been living with for the past six months."

Jenny's complete attention was on the man next to her, as though she was worried he was going to stand up and walk out on her. Nate watched as the man squeezed Jenny's shoulder and her eyes lit up in relief. She turned back to him. "Chuck moved into The Empire two days ago."

"You're sure?"

She nodded.

Without another word, Nate stood up and walked back to his table with Serena. "You need to get a hold of Blair and tell her that Chuck and Jenny are done."

.

.

.

_**Third week of January 2018**_

"What do you want, Jack?" Chuck asked with annoyance as he stared at his uncle. "You couldn't be bothered to meet with me the entire time I was in Australia last week, but you can show up in New York? On my first day back? The board was less than pleased, and they want to vote on removing you from your position at Bass Australia."

"Is that your plan, nephew?" Jack asked too casually. "Ousting me from the company?"

"There was never any plan," Chuck said with exasperation. "Despite my reservations, I was ready to discuss promoting you to head of the division. That was a large part of why I went down there. But you couldn't even return a call—you dug your own grave, and the Board has strongly suggested I go in another direction."

"Well, I have a suggestion of my own."

"And what would that be?"

"That you concern yourself with Blair's wellbeing."

Those were the last words he expected to hear, and Chuck was unable to mask his confusion. As a slow smile crossed Jack's face, his heart started beating erratically.

"Blair is none of your concern, Jack," Chuck said tightly.

"Oh, but she is," his uncle answered smoothly.

"Whatever ill will you harbor towards me, keep my wife out of this," Chuck warned. "If you make this personal, I'll have no choice but to terminate your employment with the company."

"Your wife. How _sweet_," Jack drawled. The smile on his face turned sinister. "You're a fool if you think this is anything but personal. And being that Blair is your Achilles' heel, I make it my business to be kept extremely well-informed about everything that concerns her. By the way, how was her appointment with Dr. Ruggio?"

"Jack—."

"It's such a pity, really." His uncle continued, as though Chuck hadn't said his name. "How a life can end, before it ever had a chance to begin."

Chuck's eyes widened as his face froze with shock.

"Biopsy, abortion, they're all the same, don't you think? Dr. Ruggio was _extremely_ cooperative. It's amazing how money solves everything," Jack laughed darkly.

"You're lying."

Jack raised an eyebrow and reached into his briefcase and abstracted a file. He flipped it onto Chuck's desk.

"Yee of little faith. You don't think I would come to you without proof, did you? And if you don't believe me, ask the good doctor herself. I'm sure your PI can easily get a hold of her bank statements."

Chuck hands shook slightly as he reached for the file. As he flipped it open, he felt the dread fill his body when he saw the name _Blair Bass_ at the top of each page, next to her social security number.

"But don't worry, I fully expect you to follow up with the doc. Give her my regards when you speak to her."

"Why are you doing this? What could you possibly gain from all of this?" There was a buzzing sound in Chuck's head, as his mind was slowly coming to terms with what his uncle had done.

"There's nothing I enjoy more than watching you lose everything," Jack said flippantly. Then he leaned over across the desk, his eyes narrowed. "Three years ago, I made you an offer, but you just wouldn't take the deal.** And now, I'm living up to my end of the bargain. I am going to take everything away from you. I started with your child, and it won't end until you have _nothing_—not even Blair."

"What do you want, Jack? What do I have to do to make this go away?" Suddenly, the conversation Chuck had dismissed as an empty threat was anything but.

Jack sat back in his chair, kicked up feet and rested it on Chuck's desk. "There's nothing you can give me that I can't take for myself."

"And you think I'm going to sit back and let you take everything away? There is no way I will ever let you touch Blair," Chuck vowed.

"_Let me_? I already have," Jack scoffed. "What are you going to do, Chuckie? Have me killed?"

_Yes!_ Chuck wanted to scream from the top of his lungs. His hands were balled into fists, but he remained perfectly still.

"You're not a killer. You're soft, like Bart always said."

Chuck's jaw clenched angrily. He knew he wasn't a murderer, but there were no lines he wouldn't cross if it meant protecting Blair.

"Even if you do, everything has already been set in motion. Whether I'm dead or alive, you will lose everything." Jack stood up. "I'll leave you to do your reconnaissance. And I'll expect to hear from you soon, nephew."

Before the door had even been closed, Chuck's mind was racing. There were too many things that needed to be done. He snatched the phone and dialed his PI.

"Mike, I need you to send your best men to keep an eye on Blair. I'm sending you the name of the spa resort she's at. She left this morning. Tell your men not to let her out of their sight," Chuck barked into the phone. "Then I need you to pull everything you have on Dr. Janet Ruggio. Dig up her financials and have them sent to me immediately."

He slammed the phone down without waiting for a response. His head buried in his hands, Chuck tried to calm himself. But his gut told him Jack hadn't lied, and that the world around him was about to crumble. The thought of losing a child, let alone his child with Blair, pushed Chuck closer to the edge of spiraling out of control. It was like Bart dying, all over again, only ten times worse. With what little control he had left, he managed to stop himself from making the short trek to bar in the corner. He knew that no amount of alcohol was going to dull this pain.

.

.

.

_**tbc**_

* * *

><p>*Chuck wasn't missing an <em>actual<em> anniversary—just the unofficial Limo anniversary, which Blair uses to have an excuse to celebrate her birthday for three days each year.

** from Nameless, Faceless – 5x01


	5. To Hell

_**September 26, 2018—Present **_

"Tell me, Chuck, tell me you love me. I want that to be the last thing I hear."

"Blair, I lo—."

_Bang._

"_BLAIR_!" Chuck yelled into the phone. _No, no, no_. He couldn't believe this was happening. His cheeks were wet with tears, and he felt his heart pounding so loudly, he couldn't hear any other sound. And then through the cloudy haze, the one voice he didn't wish to hear cut through.

"See you soon, nephew. You better hurry, you never know what I might do to defile your dead wife's body."

_Click_.

Chuck dropped his phone and flipped over his desk. She couldn't be dead, she just couldn't. He kept screaming _No_ over and over, until he was curled up on the floor sobbing her name.

.

.

.

_**Last week of March 2018**_

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Chuck froze as he felt Blair's breath against his ear. How had he not sensed her proximity? He forced his eyes closed. He had missed her so much, it was all he could do to not grab her and beg for forgiveness. He hated the situation they were in, and wondered briefly if he had overlooked any angle. Was it too late to give everything to Jack and runaway with her?

"You said you didn't _want_ to be in love with me, but I _know _you are. I know you still love me, because I still love you."

His stomach fluttered—it never failed to amaze him how she could still give him butterflies. He knew he should ask her what she was talking about, but he already knew the mistake he had made. It was such a tiny, miniscule detail, so of course he would run into her the one time he slipped up.

"Chuck, please stop this soon. I'm really growing tired of missing you so much."

Her words were like a balm that he knew he didn't deserve. Finally, he couldn't stand not seeing her beautiful face. But when he opened his eyes to look at her, she was already across the room on the other side of the bar, and a second later, she was gone. He ran a hand through his hair. Why had he worn the cufflinks today? The answer was simple—it had been far too long since he had seen her in the flesh, since she had been in the embrace of his arms, since he had even held her hand. So as he got dressed this morning, he allowed himself the one thing that would make it that tiny bit easier to get through the day.

Blair had given them to him as a gift the night before their wedding. She had cut out a piece of the tulle fabric from the petticoat of her wedding dress, and had it fashioned into a set of fabric cufflinks and studs. She had blushed a little bit, worried that he would think it was a bit much, possibly too cheesy—but he had loved them. In fact, he wore them much more often than she had expected—he loved the subtle reminder of their wedding day.

But as he got dressed this morning, he couldn't help but notice how naked his left ring finger looked as he tied his necktie. Sometimes he cursed himself for leaving the ring with Blair, but he knew she'd keep it safe for him. And he knew that if he had kept his wedding band, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from wearing it—the symbol that he belonged to her, and _only _her.

He took a long sip of his scotch, and then stubbornly refused to take off the cufflinks. The harm had already been done, Blair had already seen him wearing them. But he could not afford to slip again, not if he wanted to keep her safe—this was the last time he could allow himself this small indulgence.

.

.

.

_**September 26, 2018—Present **_

"You stupid, stupid girl," Jack hissed into her ear. "You should've kept your mouth shut."

Blair could feel his breath on her skin and she wanted to jerk away, but the fear pulsing through her body kept her still. The sound of the gun firing into the wall had scared her—it was so much louder than she had imagined it would be. Jack had aimed the gun at her while he had taunted Chuck. The agony she heard in Chuck's voice felt like a death of its own. But as much as she had wanted to call out a reassurance that she was still alive, her silence had been the only thing that would keep it that way.

Jack put the phone in his pocket and dragged her across the room. Reaching a desk near the windows, he shoved her onto it. He opened a drawer and pulled out a small glass vile and a large syringe. Her eyes widened as he inserted the needle into the vile, slowly filling the chamber with the clear liquid. When he grabbed her arm, even more panic flooded through her.

"You could be _dead_ right now, and it would have been quick—you wouldn't have had to suffer much. I was saving this for you husband, but now," Jack snarled as she tried to yank her arm free from his grasp. He overpowered her easily, and twisted her arm behind her back. Blair couldn't stop herself from crying out in pain. His mouth now brushed against her ear as he continued his rant. "Now, I'm going to make you watch while I beat him to a pulp, and then he can watch me kill you. It's gonna be slow and painful, Princess, and there won't be anything he can do to save you."

"Why are you doing this?" Blair cried.

"Because losing you is Chuck's biggest fear," Jack answered. "Now, I'm going to let go of your arm. If you try and run, I will not be happy. So you can either accept the fact that you'll be getting this injection or you can fight it. Are you going to be a good girl for me, Blair?"

She cringed at his mocking tone, but nodded in agreement. When he released her, she let out a temporary breath of relief. Jack cleared his throat and looked at her expectantly, so she gingerly offered out her arm. His hand clasped around her wrist and before she could blink, the needle pierced her skin. She felt lightheaded, as the drug traveled quickly into her bloodstream. If Jack hadn't caught her when she slumped over, she would've fallen to the floor. Her body felt as though it was immersed underwater, and she struggled to get her limbs to move, but the injection he had given her had already taken effect.

Blair wanted to scream, but she couldn't even open her mouth to make a sound. Unfortunately for her, the drug was a paralytic, but left her wide awake. If she thought she had been scared earlier, she was terrified now. She blinked away her tears as Jack laid her on the ground and used the still warm mouth of the gun to tilt up her chin.

With a wicked smile, he straddled her, the weight of his body pressing down on her hips. He moved the firearm down her neck, and pressed it harder against her as it traveled between her breasts. Mentally she cried out, as he unknowingly dug the jewelry she wore around her neck, into her skin. Jack sat the gun down next to her as he assessed her with his cool blue eyes—eyes that reminded her so much of Bart.

"What does my nephew see in you?" Jack mused out loud as he tilted his head to the side. "I would have never guessed that the girl he fell for would be such an undercover slut. How could you do it, Blair? Profess your love for my nephew one day, and then let me, his _uncle_, fuck you the first chance I got? Poor little, Chuckie, mourning the loss of his father, and you just had to scratch that itch. Makes me wonder if any Bass will do."

Blair shut her eyes, she didn't want Jack to see her fury at his words. Her anger would only egg him on, as it had earlier.

"I'll have to admit, though, you two are truly a matched set. I mean, you forgave him for tricking you into offering yourself for The Empire. At least you can be comforted in knowing you're worth many millions of dollars, more than a small fortune," Jack laughed evilly.

She kept her eyes closed. No need for him to see how uninterested she was with his retelling of their past. That was the one thing that never failed to surprise her, how people could believe these issues hadn't been talked out and put to bed—as they had been—long before Chuck had proposed. They had agreed marriage was sacred to both of them, and it wasn't something they wished to enter without having vanquished any potential ghosts. It wasn't so much that they had forgotten their history, but they had let it go, so they could move forward. They loved each other far too much to let their egos keep them apart, as it had so often in their past.

A slap across her face had her eyes fluttering back open. Blair had managed to block Jack out for the past minute or so. His eyes were filled with contempt. "Boring you, am I?"

She tried to clear her mind and hoped that her eyes only reflected emptiness and vacancy.

"You disgust me," he spat out as he stood up and started to pace around the room. "Even with your life in my hands, you still think you're better than me. You stuck up little bitch. But that's okay, because today I'm going to win, and that's all that matters."

Blair laid there helplessly on the floor, relieved that Jack was no longer on top of her. She watched as he took out his phone and made some calls. She had never been a religious woman, but in that moment she started to pray. If there was a God somewhere out there, then maybe he would find a way to save both her and Chuck.

.

.

.

It was almost two hours later when Chuck finally made it to Bass Industries.

He didn't know how long he had been lying on the floor of his office at The Empire when Jim Phillips, the head of the team he had assembled, had come to fetch him. His devastation had shifted to rage, as he demanded answers on how it came to be that Blair had been left unguarded. Since the day Jack had revealed what had happened to Blair at Dr. Ruggio's, Blair had been under twenty-four hour protection by a team of former Navy Seals. When Phillips had divulged that it had been pure luck on Jack's part, Chuck couldn't stop himself from laughing bitterly. There were always at least two men on shift, but as per protocol, when Blair returned to the penthouse, one of the men would enter in advance to perform a standard security check. The man who had kept watch from outside, had been knocked out by one of Jack's men. When Blair still hadn't entered the penthouse after almost five minutes, it had been too late to stop her from going with Jack. The video feed from the front door of the building showed her stepping into his uncle's car.

Chuck knew it would be a suicide mission to go and confront Jack, but the idea of leaving Blair's body with his uncle was unbearable. Phillips had done everything to try and convince him not to go, but the truth of the matter was, without Blair in this world, Chuck had nothing to live for.

It had taken nearly an hour for Chuck to be fitted with a wire—so Phillips could monitor everything from a distance, as well as set his men up in the surrounding buildings. Chuck had even made the final payment to Phillips' account, including a charge for one additional task—that his uncle not make it out of the building alive. The part that should have scared Chuck was the lack of guilt or hesitation he felt when making his request, but instead he felt nothing.

As he rode alone in the elevator up to the 19th floor, a rush of emotion flooded through him. Chuck could feel the tears prickling behind his eyes, threatening to spill again. For a moment he contemplated running away so he could preserve his memories of Blair. If he left now, he could forever picture her vibrant, _alive_. It seemed like such a desirable option, especially since he already knew he was never going to forgive himself for her death—why not add yet another failure on his part? But as the doors slid open, he felt Blair's energy calling out to him, and he knew he would not ignore it.

He walked down the corridor towards the suite of vacated offices. It was the only floor in the building that was unoccupied, and would fulfill Jack's needs. The door had been left ajar, and Chuck braced himself to see Blair for the last time. He pushed open the door.

"Jack?" Chuck called out, his voice trembling with emotion. He took in a deep breath before he yelled, "You son of a bitch, where are you?"

No response.

Slowly he walked through the long row of cubicles. As he neared the end, he saw the trademark red soles of a pair of Louboutins on the floor. He stumbled, and tried to catch his breath. Suddenly, the desperation to see her fueled him, and he picked up his pace to reach her.

"Blair," Chuck gasped, as he moved towards her lifeless body that lay on the floor. Just as he reached her, he felt a crushing blow from behind. The pain was agonizing and then everything around him went black.

.

.

.

When Chuck awoke from his daze, he felt a throbbing at the back of his head. He was sitting upright, but tied to a chair. He blinked his eyes open slowly, only to find Blair laid out on a desk, her eyes open and staring back at him, with tears running down her cheek.

"Blair?" Chuck said in disbelief.

She didn't move or respond, she just laid there. He wondered if he was delirious, if this was all a trick of the mind. But then he saw her eyes move, and he felt a surge of hope that all was not lost.

"Welcome back, nephew of mine," Jack's voice came from behind.

"Let her go, Jack. Please, I'm begging you," were the first words that came out of Chuck's mouth.

Instead of responding, his uncle laughed. "Don't you have something to tell your lovely wife? Think of it as an anniversary present. Shouldn't you tell her what happened when she visited Dr. Ruggio?"

Blair's eyes widened as they moved frantically back and forth between Jack and himself.

"Now, as much as I would love to tell her, I think she'll take it better coming from you."

"Don't do this, Jack," Chuck begged one final time.

A blow across the face was his answer. By the time he managed to open his eyes, Jack was standing next to Blair, the gun in his hand.

"Again, Chuck, I do believe you have something to say to Blair."

When he hesitated, Jack cocked the gun and aimed it directly at her. Chuck closed his eyes for a brief moment, before meeting his wife's gaze. "I'm so sorry Blair, more than you can ever know. I didn't know how to—."

"Boo hoo! For fuck's sake, since you can't man up and tell her, I will," Jack shouted in frustration. "Sweetheart, you can thank your prince of a husband for not only getting you knocked up, but being the reason why I had your pregnancy terminated. That biopsy Dr. Ruggio gave you, well…she lied."

Blair's normally expressive eyes, darkened briefly, before turning almost vacant. She closed her eyes, as if she couldn't stand to stare at Chuck any longer.

"Blair, I'm so sorry," Chuck repeated, over and over again. He kept looking at her, waiting for something other than the stream of tears that kept rolling down her cheeks. He shifted in his chair, testing to see how tightly bound he was, but found no slack to move. He wanted to hold her, and beg for her forgiveness.

Jack's laughter drew his attention. And with all the rage inside of him, Chuck yelled, "Why are you doing this? What did Blair ever do, that you take such joy in her pain? What did I ever do to warrant this much hatred? You're supposed to be my family!"

His uncle's eyes grew dark with anger as he turned his back on Blair and walked up to him. "What makes people turn their backs on _me_, in favor of you?"

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked as he grew agitated. "I'm Bart's _son_, what did you expect?"

"I'm talking about that whore I hired, Elizabeth Fisher," Jack clarified.

"W-w-what?" He asked hoarsely.

"The first time I saw her, it was in this little strip club in Zurich. I was so drunk that night, I thought I was seeing things. I even bought a lap dance, so I could get up close and personal, just to make sure."

"You're telling me that woman was _not_ my mother?"

"Of course she wasn't."

As strange as it was, given the circumstances, Chuck felt a sense of relief, as though a weight had been lifted off his chest. Bart hadn't lied to him, nor had his mother swindled him out of his hotel. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he thought he saw Blair's left hand twitch from the corner of his eye. He stared a moment too long, and Jack started to turn around.

"But the DNA," Chuck said quickly. "The test..."

"Haven't you figured it out, yet? The results were falsified. You didn't even question it, you _wanted_ to believe she was your mother so badly, and so you did," Jack chastised.

"Her name?" Chuck asked. He didn't really care, now he was just trying to distract Jack from paying attention to Blair. He chanced a quick glance at her, and this time he saw her turn her head.

"Beth. Elizabeth Fisher was her real name," Jack answered with a grin. "She almost had Bart fooled when I flew her out to Monte Carlo for the bachelor party."

"I don't remember seeing—."

"You were too busy getting to know one of the club hostesses. Besides, it was a private performance, in his room."

The scowl on his uncle's face told Chuck exactly what Bart had thought of Jack's surprise.

"That's why my dad cut the weekend short," Chuck realized. "This whole time, I thought it was because of something I did."

"Not everything is about _you_, Chuck," Jack said as he rolled his eyes. "You would think Bart would have been happy about the surprise I lined up for him. Except for the voice, Beth could have fooled anyone into thinking she was Evie. He should have thanked me for finding her. But, no, Bart was furious. For a moment, I thought he was going to kill me. My reward was being transferred from the European division to Australia."

"And that's why you didn't come to the wedding," Chuck surmised.

"Bingo."

"I didn't think about Beth again, until after I got banished to that godforsaken island the second—."

"You _attacked _Lily," he reminded his uncle. Chuck needed to buy time, because whatever Jack had given to Blair, it was wearing off.

"Please, the bitch was asking for it," Jack said bitterly. "Just another woman who couldn't wait to play Mommy to you. So you didn't grow up with a mother, neither did I, but you don't see me crying about it. And if I had known that Beth was going to follow along in Lily's footstep, I wouldn't have brought her with me. You play the poor little rich orphan boy too well. You turned her against me."

"How?" Chuck asked incredulously. "Even after I found out about The Empire, I asked her to stay for _me_. She told me she wasn't my mother, but I thought she was lying."

"She told me what she had said to you," Jack acknowledged. "But whatever you said, it affected her greatly. I don't know exactly how, but she figured out what happened with Blair and The Empire."

"How is Elizabeth relevant to any of this?" Chuck cursed himself for his words. The point was to keep Jack talking long enough so that hopefully Blair could escape. So long as she could get out of here unscathed, he could handle whatever torture his uncle had planned.

"Well, you wanted to know why I'm doing all of this, don't you?"

Chuck played the part and eyed Jack wearily.

"Remember our talk after you returned from your honeymoon with Blair? How I warned you what would happen if you didn't surrender Bass Industries?"

He nodded.

"That was shortly after Beth had come crawling back to me. She told me she still loved me, that she had made a mistake. But really, she had read about your engagement to Blair, and made a preemptive strike to try and distract me from interfering with your wedding plans."

Jack paused and stared at him as though he anticipated a reaction.

"Okay…" Chuck said slowly.

With a loud sigh and a shake of his head, Jack gave him a look of disappointment. "Well, Chuckie, we're getting to the part you'll like. That bitch tried to steal my money. And she almost succeeded, too. But poor Beth, she was always too soft for her own good, and look where it got her."

"What did you do to her, Jack?" A feeling of dread crossed over Chuck.

"Why do you always expect the worst from me? I mean, sure, I had to kill her," Jack said carelessly. "But the situation could've been avoided if she had left me alone. I had actually lost interest in you, nephew. But her actions begged the question—what could possibly make her carry a vendetta in the name of someone who was a mark, a target? And the answer was simple—_you_."

"I never asked her to—."

"That's what made it even worse!" Jack exploded. He crouched over so his face was eye level to Chuck's, before hissing, "She acted on her own. Do you know what her reason was? She felt guilty that she had dangled the promise of maternal love to a boy who was starving for it. She would close her eyes, and see the look on your face, hear your words. You, Chuck, take things that belong to _me_, and you don't even realize you're doing it. So now, I'm going to take the only thing you love, away from you."

Jack started to rise from his position, but Chuck could see that Blair had managed to sit herself up and was now reaching for the desk drawer.

"Was there ever a chance for us to be a family?" Chuck blurted out before he could stop himself.

His uncle froze. "What do you mean?"

Chuck's mind raced to put a plausible spin on the words he had never meant to say, but then opted for the truth. He had spent many a sleepless night over the past few months wondering this very thing. "After my dad died, was there anything I could have done differently that would've made you treat me more like a nephew? A younger brother, even?"

Jack looked startled, confused even.

Chuck pressed harder. "You're the only blood relative I have, and the only thing I've ever wanted was a family."

"Maybe," Jack said a beat later and again his eyes narrowed, "But then that bitch you married, _had_ to convince you take Bass Industries from me."

Blair was standing behind Jack, a syringe clutched in her fist.

"Now, Blair," Chuck ordered.

His uncle whirled around only to see Blair lurch at him. She stabbed Jack in the shoulder and left the needle there, as she scrambled back away from him.

"Run, Blair!" Chuck begged.

Blair stumbled as she tried to make her way down the row, and Chuck's heart was pounding loudly with fear. But Jack easily pulled out the presumably empty needle and grabbed her by her hair, dragged her back towards Chuck and then threw her onto the floor. Jack turned his attention back to him and kicked him in his stomach repeatedly, stopping only when Blair managed to cry out his uncle's name.

.

.

.

_**tbc**_


	6. And Back

"Jack, wait," Blair croaked desperately, her throat dry from all the tears.

"What now?" He roared. The frustration and anger was written all over his face.

She struggled to speak, "I wanted to let you know, whatever happens here, you didn't win."

"Why don't you say that again, once you're dead?" Jack jeered. He pulled out the gun that had been tucked into his pocket and aimed it towards her head. "Any last words?"

"I was never pregnant, Dr. Ruggio lied. You lose."*

The shock on Jack's face was comical. From the corner of her eye, she saw Chuck's head lift up slightly. This was going to be her one and only opportunity to let know Chuck know that Jack hadn't taken everything away from him, even if she was going to die.

"I didn't stop taking the pill until December, and I got my period the morning I went in for my appointment." Blair managed to laugh triumphantly. "So that baby you thought you stole, it never existed."

"No," Jack said as he shook his head violently. "No! No! No!"

Blair smiled sadly, as she shifted her focus and spoke to her husband, "I'm sorry, Chuck, that's what I was wanted to tell you that night—."

_Crack_. She hadn't seen it coming. She never though Jack would actually hit her, but the left side of her face was throbbing with immense pain.

"Where's your loving husband now?" Jack sneered at her. Her words had shifted his anger, and he turned his back to Chuck. She squinted her right eye, and could see Chuck struggling to move.

"Please, Jack, don't hurt him. I'll do whatever you want."

"Well the only thing I want right now, is for _you_ to be dead. Say goodbye to Chuckie," Jack instructed. He cocked the gun for the second time that evening and pointed it directly at her.

"I love you, Chuck," Blair said as she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the end. But instead, she heard the slamming of a body, and her eyes flew open. Chuck had gotten his feet loose enough so he could throw himself onto Jack. She was trembling with fear as Chuck tried to keep Jack on the ground, but his restraints made it nearly impossible. A moment later, Jack had flung Chuck off of him, recovered the gun and stood up.

"This ends now," Jack said as he raised his arm.

Blair held her breath as she stared at Chuck. Nothing was going to stop Jack or save them. As a tear fell down her cheek, the sound of multiple gunshots rang in the air.

"Chuck!" She screamed.

But then Jack fell to his knees between the two of them, the gun slipping from his fingers. He collapsed onto the ground, facing away from her.

"Blair?" Chuck called out.

As she attempted to push herself off the ground, the room began to swarm with men in uniform, drowning out the sound of Chuck's voice.

.

.

.

"Mr. Bass," Phillips said with relief.

"Get me out of this, now," Chuck commanded, tugging on his restraints. He was desperate to get to Blair.

He waited impatiently for the ropes to be unknotted, and he saw with irritation, one of his men lifting Blair up and moving her away from his dead uncle. Chuck's eyes were drawn to the pool of blood beneath Jack's body. And he noted with relief that the eyes that had taunted him for the past few months were lifeless.

"We have everything on tape, and the NYPD Swat team is responsible for your uncle," Phillips tried to explain as he finally freed Chuck of his restraints.

Blocking out Phillips, Chuck managed to stand up, ignoring the pain that laced through his body. He stumbled his way to where they had left Blair, and when he reached her, everything around him—the police, his crew—faded into the background.

"Blair," he gasped as he cradled her in his arm, one of his hand's immediately cupping her face. It felt surreal to him, that she was close enough for him to touch.

"Chuck," she said hoarsely, as she tried to give him a half-smile.

He brushed away her tears. "Are you okay?"

"Is he dead?" Blair countered with a question of her own.

Chuck nodded and felt her body relax against him. His thumb gently grazed against her bruised left cheekbone, and caused her to wince lightly.

"We match," she said shakily, trying to inject some humor.

"It's the one time I wish we didn't," he said softly. "I'm so sorry for everything. I just wanted to keep you safe—."

Blair's hand shook as she lifted a finger and placed it on his lips to silence him. He opened his mouth a fraction, and scraped his teeth against her finger tip, his tongue darting out to taste her skin. Her eyes closed and she let out a breathy sigh, but she pulled her hand away reluctantly.

"What is it?"

She clumsily pawed at her neck, and then tugged on a thin chain he hadn't noticed she was wearing.

"Here, let me help you," he offered.

Blair smiled at him gratefully as he carefully unhooked the clasp. Chuck was surprised by the heavy weight and shot her a puzzled look. But as he removed the necklace, and saw both their wedding bands hanging on the chain, he couldn't stop the tears from welling in his eyes.

"I was so scared that you had given up, when you came back from France without the ring on your finger," he confessed. "I needed you to move on, but it broke my heart."

"I thought it would be better if I stopped wearing it. I convinced myself it was to provoke a reaction from you, when really I couldn't wear mine when you didn't have yours. But I couldn't stand not having it with me, so I wore them both on this chain, and no one knew, except me."

He removed the platinum bands from chain, and took her left hand. "May I?"

She nodded.

"With this ring, I thee wed, and with all my love, I thee endow," Chuck said solemnly as he slid her wedding band back where it rightfully belonged.

Blair looked at her hand, as she blinked away her tears.

"Do you take me to be your lawfully wedded husband?" He asked as he stared into her eyes. Now might not be the most ideal time or place to have this discussion, but in truth it was the _perfect_ moment. Today was their anniversary, and somehow they were _together_, despite everything that had conspired against them to keep them apart. So audience or not, he wasn't going to wait, he had kept Blair waiting long enough.

"I do," Blair whispered. She turned up her hand and nodded to the ring he was holding. Chuck placed it gently in her palm, and smiled as her hand curled around his. Without even asking, she slid his ring on his finger and repeated the same sacred vows that she had made three years ago. "With this ring, I thee wed, and with all my love, I thee endow."

"Blair, I love you so much. I never stopped, not for one sec—."

"You may now kiss your wife," she interrupted with the obvious hint.

Chuck did as Blair requested and brushed his lips against hers. The little hitch in her breath just before her lips parted, was so familiar that it made his stomach flutter. His eyes closed as he kissed her slowly, drowning in the exquisite taste of her—she was even more perfect than he had remembered.

"I love you," Chuck repeated against her lips. He wanted to say those words again and again and again, until he could somehow make up for the days he hadn't been able to tell her so. He kissed her once more.

"I love you, too," Blair sniffled.

As Chuck buried his face in her neck, luxuriating in the smell of her, he heard a throat clearing loudly. Looking up, he found Phillips standing in front of him.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Bass, but the medics are here, and they would like to take you and Mrs. Bass to the hospital. And the police have questions."

Blair squeezed him tightly, and he held her as close as he could. He answered for both of them, "So long as Mrs. Bass and I are together, that will be fine."

.

.

.

They had been separated at the hospital, almost immediately upon arrival. Blair tried not to panic, and Chuck tried to temper his rage. He understood, in theory, that they wanted to test Blair to make sure Jack hadn't injected her with anything other than the neuromuscular agent. But he couldn't understand why he wasn't able to stay with her during the procedures. While Chuck tried to speak with the doctors, the police started badgering him, asking if they could take his statement. He repeatedly instructed them to speak with Phillips, and that as soon as Blair was released from the hospital, he would gladly come down to the station, but they remained persistent. Chuck retaliated the only way he knew how, by refusing to speak. In fact, he didn't even make a sound as the nurse gave him four stitches on his cheek.

It felt like hours later, but when he and Blair were finally allowed to be with each other again, Nate, Serena, Eric and Lily all arrived. Nate informed them that the Roses and Waldorfs were all en route from France. But as much as Chuck loved being able to see the family he had been forced away from, he wanted to be alone with his wife. They exchanged grimaces, but said nothing, they knew they would have to wait until later.

Chuck nearly strangled Serena, when she suggested he leave to give his statement, now that the family was there to keep an eye on Blair. The detectives were loitering outside, and Eric and Lily chimed in, encouraging Chuck to go. Nate quickly voiced his disagreement, stating that the police could wait. The four started to mildly argue, when Blair's voice caused them to stop.

"No!" Blair shouted. "I just got my husband back a few hours ago, and hell will freeze over before I allow you take him away, again."

Her words revealed what had been temporarily forgotten, and they realized their miscue. Nate and the van der Woodsens left shortly after, with promises to return in the morning. It was clear that both Chuck and Blair were fine, and no one wanted to be the cause of delaying their reunion any further. When they thought they were alone at last, Blair's doctor entered the room. Dr. Jones explained that they wished to monitor Blair overnight, but quickly assured them that Chuck could remain in the room. Their relief was short-lived, as Dr. Jones apologetically added that they could not allow for Chuck to crawl into the hospital bed and sleep next to his wife.

They settled for the fact that they would at least be together, and moved into the observation room. Chuck laid his head on Blair's lap, as she stroked his hair soothingly, their eyes locked on one another as they willed themselves not to fall asleep. They understood each other's irrational belief that if they were to close their eyes, the other would disappear. It took Blair a few hours, but she finally succumbed to sleep. Chuck managed to stay awake until dawn, as he spent most of the night reacquainting his eyes with every millimeter of Blair's face.

It was her familiar touch that woke him up only a couple of hours later. Her soft fingers traced the lines of his face, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling happily. Her touch was real and when he opened his eyes, his wife was staring back at him. He closed his eyes to bask in the quiet affection she was lavishing upon him.

In a low voice, heavy with sleep, he confided in her, "There was this moment, in the morning, when just as I woke up, there would be a split second of peace. But then it would come back, all of it.** And I couldn't stop myself from reaching for you, even though I knew you wouldn't be there. If I didn't have that moment, that reminder of why I was doing all of this, I would never have managed to stay away from you as long as I did."

Blair leaned over and rained light kisses across his face.

"But being with you now, even in this poor excuse of a hospital room, that split second, doesn't hold a candle to what it feels like to actually wake up, and know that you're here," Chuck finished. He lifted his head and opened his eyes again. "Good morning, Blair."

"Good morning, Chuck," she said softly.

He stood up and sat on the bed so he could kiss her more easily. Blair wrapped her arms around him, and he bent his head slowly. Just as their lips met, the door swung open, and the sound of Blair's three fathers, her mother and Dorota entering the room pierced through the air. But Chuck didn't care, he continued to kiss Blair, because he needed to. He hadn't been able to kiss her for months, and her parents could wait one minute.

Eleanor came over, however, and pulled him off of her. Once she saw that Blair was fine, her hand reached out and gently touched her daughter's bruised face. A moment later, she crushed Blair to her, and hugged her tightly, before kissing her on the forehead. Harold, Cyrus and Roman hovered around the bed, waiting for their chance to see their little girl, while Dorota eyes darted back and forth between Blair and Chuck. Suddenly, Eleanor turned around, and focused her attention on him. Chuck braced himself.

"Thank you for protecting my baby," Eleanor said, as she threw her arms around him, and pulled him in for a hug.

He was stunned by Eleanor's actions, he hadn't expected her to be understanding, _at all_. But soon it became a merry-go-round, as Cyrus hugged him next, followed by Roman, and then Harold. Dorota hugged him, too, whispering in his ear, "Mr. Chuck, I was worried you not be okay, but I am happy to see both you and Mrs. Blair are fine."

Chuck met Blair's eyes, and the smile on her face, made him smile back in return.

.

.

.

It was after seven p.m. by the time they finally made it back to the penthouse. After they had been discharged from the hospital, they had stopped at The Empire to pick up some documents for the police. They had eaten lunch with both their families, taken separate showers, unfortunately, before they had ended up at the station for almost five hours. Due to the circumstances, giving their statements had been anything but routine. The NYPD had a dead body on their hands, and they wanted answers. Chuck and Blair had been questioned both together and independently. Finally at six-thirty, the detectives had let them go. The pair could barely keep their eyes open, and they both stifled yawns as they stepped out of the elevator.

"Are you hungry?" Blair asked. "Dorota said she would leave something in the fridge. Or we could order in?"

"I just want to go to bed. Unless, of course…_you're_ hungry?" Chuck asked hesitantly.

Blair shook her head, offered him a half-smile, and tried to ignore the voice in the back of her head. "I'm tired, too."

She walked down the hall and into their bedroom. She had almost reached the door to her closet, when she realized that she hadn't heard Chuck enter the room after her. She whirled around to find him standing outside the entry.

"Chuck? What's wrong?" She asked the obligatory question, even though she already knew what his answer would be.

"Would you like me to stay in the guest room?" He asked too politely. "I'm sure you're going to need some time, and I don't want to be presumptuous that I would—."

"That you would what? Be welcome in our bedroom?" Blair interrupted irritably. She _hated_ when he did this, when he walked on eggshells around her. "The last twenty-four hours have been the longest of our lives, so can we save the martyrdom for another time? I'm tired and I want to go to sleep, _with_ my husband. Or is that too much to ask for?"

"Whatever you want," Chuck said softly, the lines on his face relaxing. She turned back around to walk into her closet, and let out a sigh of relief when she heard his footsteps a moment later.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on her closet door.

"Blair? Is everything okay in there?"

She sat on the floor in the middle of her closet, wearing a thin, black silk robe, with her arms wrapped around her knees. Scattered all around her was every type of sleepwear, ranging from practical to virginal to racy. For the first time since she could remember, she had no idea how to dress for Chuck, or if she should be dressing for him at all.

"Hey, what it is?" Chuck asked with concern as he knelt down beside her and tipped her face up to meet his eyes. His thumb reached out and wiped away a tear.

"Do you think if I hadn't lied to you about still being on the pill, that none of this would have happened?" She whispered as she blinked away more tears. She felt as though she was drowning in a pool of her own guilt. "Was all of this my fault?"

"No!" Chuck yelled vehemently.

Blair was startled by the volume of his response. She watched as he forced himself to take a breath, before he sat down next to her and pulled her onto his lap. She buried her face into his neck, and relaxed as he soothingly rubbed her back.

"None of this is your fault, Blair," Chuck said quietly. "But what I don't understand, is why you didn't tell me you were still on the pill? You know I would have waited…"

"For how long?" She interrupted. "Do you think I didn't know how badly you wanted a baby? Did you think I didn't notice how you'd stare longingly at families, wherever we went? I knew you wanted to ask me on your birthday last year, when we were at dinner and the baby at the table next to us wouldn't stop crying. You stopped me from asking to have our table moved, and the entire time you snuck glances, as if you were jealous that we weren't the unfortunate parents saddled with the crying infant."

"I can wait until whenever you're ready, even if it means never," Chuck admitted. "I want children, Blair, but I _need_ you. I'm not saying this just so you can feel better, I'm saying it because it's true. I wish you would've felt like you could talk to me about this."

"I didn't know _how_. I want to have children with you, and every time the idea floated into my head, I could picture it—our perfect little dark-haired, brown-eyed children with matching accessories and smirks. I would feel so happy, I couldn't stand it," Blair confessed.

"So what stopped you?"

"Because a minute later, our children would disappear—every time. And then a doctor would appear, telling me that since I lost my first child, I didn't deserve to have another."

"Blair, why didn't you tell me?" Chuck asked, his voice echoing her pain.

"I couldn't tell anyone," she said in a small voice. "What if it's true, Chuck? What if I'm not fit to be a mother?"

"If you're not fit to be a mother, then I'm definitely not fit to be a father," he reassured her.

"But you have all that love to give, Chuck. Any child you have will be the most loved child in the world."

"And everything I know about how to love someone, I learned by watching you," he said as he gently stroked her hair.

They held onto each other in silence. Slowly, the tension left her body.

"What happened that finally made you stop taking the pill?" Chuck asked a few minutes later. His voice was purposefully light, but she knew he was more than slightly curious.

"It was you, actually," she confided. "It was the way your hands would linger on my stomach, the way you would kiss my belly as though a baby was already there."

Blair closed her eyes, as she recalled the look on his face as he would reverently stroke the skin of her stomach, and how he would whisper private messages to her empty womb.

"Do you remember that day at your office? The day you had a meeting with Jenny?" She made sure not to hiss the name of the younger girl.

Chuck nodded.

"The day before, S and I had gone shopping. We were at Agent Provocateur, and I overheard this man telling the sales girl how his wife was six months pregnant, and he wanted to buy her something she could feel sexy in. And suddenly, I wanted to be that wife. That was the last day I took the pill, and that was why I was so eager to seduce you at the office. I was ready to start _our_ family."

"So that's why you sounded nervous on the phone, after your appointment with Dr. Ruggio."

"You were so sure I was pregnant, and I didn't know how to tell you that I didn't need a test to confirm that I wasn't. I was going to tell you everything, but that was the night you left."

"Will you be upset to find out that I'm glad you didn't?" Chuck asked. "I mean, I'm glad that you were going to tell me, but I'm not sorry you didn't have the chance. If Jack had known back then, I think he would've waited until you really were pregnant. And at least this way, we didn't lose a baby."

"But we lost eight months of our lives," Blair countered angrily. "You let the whole world think you left me for_ her_."

"I didn't have any other choice. You have to believe me," Chuck begged. "I knew the only thing that would make you stay away, was if you thought I was involved with her. Because I knew that if it was her, you would take it as a sign that I meant what I had said. And it was so much easier being roommates with her, than having to parade different women around. Using Jenny meant I never had to touch another woman, that I could keep the vows I made to you on our wedding day. Jenny needed something from me, so it was easy to buy her silence. But if I had chosen the alternative route, don't you think that after a few months, word would have gotten out that I never once touched any of the girls on my arm? One of them would've sold their 'non-night with Chuck Bass' to the tabloids. Serena was my only other option. But I couldn't trust her enough to keep my secret, and I couldn't destroy your relationship with her, or mine with Nathaniel. I knew you were going to need Serena."

"You _never_ touched her?" Blair asked uncertainly. She hated that she was questioning Chuck, but they had been apart for so long, and she wouldn't put it past Jenny to make a move.

"One time. The one time I touched her was to wipe lipstick off of her, to make it look like we had...you know…"

"At Gramercy Tavern. That was a couple of weeks after I saw you at Gilt."

"That was why. Blair, if you hadn't walked away, I would've ended up telling you everything that night. I was weakening, it was driving me mad not to be with you. I knew it would make it into the papers if I gave the appearance that we had—."

"I get the picture."

"Blair, I love you, and you're my _wife_. No matter what things looked like, I would never break the vows I made to you. Everything I did, I did to protect you. As long as we were together, I couldn't keep you safe. I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you. The only way was for us to be apart."

"When we got married, this was supposed to change, Chuck," Blair reminded him tearfully. "We said we'd stop doing this to each other."

"Blair, I just couldn't," Chuck interrupted. "I can't stop myself from loving you this way."

"And so if in some alternate, fucked up world, this happened again—how would you choose? Would you choose _us_ or me?"

"You, Blair, always you. A million times you," he spoke the words unapologetically.

"And I will always choose _us_." She countered, her eyes filled with equal determination.

They stared at each other—it was almost an impasse.

"You promised," Blair whispered. A moment later she beat her fists against his chest. She couldn't stop the sob from escaping. "You promised we would never choose for each other again. You promised that if we were married, you would never let me go."

He let the pounding continue for several minutes, until she stopped on her own volition and was slumped against him. Only then, did his hands wrap around hers, as he murmured in her ear, "I never let you go, not in my heart. I belong to you, and I will always be yours."

She felt his heartbeat quicken, as though he were willing her to believe him.

"Please forgive me, Blair."

She pulled away from him, and met his gaze, before answering honestly, "I don't think I can forgive you this time."

It took a moment for him to absorb the enormity of her words, and when his face drained of all color, his hands released hers.

"Blair…" Chuck started to say, but when she shook her head, his voice trailed off.

"I'm tired," she said quietly. "We should go to bed."

He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He nodded and slowly stood up, stretching out a hand to help her off of the floor. Blair grabbed the first nightgown she could reach and mindlessly shrugged out of her robe. She missed the hungry gaze of her husband, as he watched her pull the mid-thigh length slip over her head.

She led the way out of her closet and to their bed. Pulling back the duvet, she slid between the sheets, curling up onto her side. She closed her eyes as Chuck carefully tucked the comforter around her. As the exhaustion washed over her, Blair waited for the familiar feel of Chuck holding her. She was finally going to get a good night's sleep. But when several minutes had passed and he was still not in bed, she frowned. Before she could sit up, she felt his weight shift onto the bed, and he slipped in next to her. Relief flooded through her when she felt his arms wrap around her and he pulled her against him. With his head buried in the crook of her neck, he mumbled, "I love you, Blair."

Her body relaxed and she purred at how right it all felt, his body warming hers. His sigh of happiness as he squeezed her tight, echoed her sentiments—_this_ was home.

"I love you, too," she admitted begrudgingly, trying to fight the smile that was stretching on her face. "But I mean it, Bass. I'm _not_ forgiving you this time."

"I know, Bass," he said, as his hand found its way to hers. Using a lighter tone, to downplay the seriousness of his words, he asked, "But you will let me spend the rest of our lives trying to make it up to you, won't you?"

Blair smirked at his request. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt his wedding band against her skin, as he laced their fingers together. With a labored sigh, she answered, "I suppose there could be some entertainment in watching you try."

He chuckled softly and kissed her on the shoulder as she snuggled even closer to him. And for the first time in eight months, they had the comforting sound of the other's steady breath to lull them to sleep.

.

.

.

_**the end.**_

* * *

><p>* a twist on Ride the Lightning – 1x14<p>

** from Mosely Lane – 5x16

A/N: Thank you forever to Uncorazonquebrado, the best beta, _ever_. I am forever appreciating the time and effort you spend editing my work. Hugs, MLP: TS.

I hope you enjoyed this fic, I know it's quite a departure from what I usually write.

The phone conversation in Chapter 3 between Chuck and Blair was my GG twist on the Criminal Minds original with Hotch and Haley. For those of you who adored the CM version, as much as the birthday girl and I did, I sincerely hope I did it justice. The main three episodes, featuring the Reaper, (just in case anyone is interested) were Omnivore – 4x18, Nameless, Faceless – 5x01, and 100 – 5x09.

There should be an epilogue coming eventually, I'm just not sure if/when it's going to happen. Thank you so much for reading.


	7. Epilogue: Somebody's Watching

_**Four and a half months later…**_

_**Second week of February 2019**_

Her phone rang and she looked at the number flashing on the screen.

"Yes?" She answered.

"I was instructed to tell you that if walk in now, you couldn't ask for better timing. It'll be just like you planned."

"Perfect." A slow smile crossed her face as she ended the call.

She didn't have to say a word to the driver, who had taken his cue when the phone rang and stood at the door, waiting for her signal. She tapped on the glass and stepped out into the crisp New York morning air. She stood still for a moment and looked around her, before tightening the belt on her new, eggplant-colored coat. The show was to start at nine a.m. sharp, and there were an impressive number of photographers standing outside the theater's doors. As she climbed up the steps, she heard the whispers.

_Is that…?_

_No, it couldn't be._

_I heard she moved out of the country._

_That looks an awful lot like…_

_She looks amazing._

_Who do you think she's wearing? That coat is gorgeous._

The laughter that threatened to spill was suppressed, she didn't want to give anything away. She was pleased that she didn't even need to flash the coveted invitation, but was quickly ushered inside the doors. The overhead lights flickered in warning, as people rushed to make it into their seats. There was a lone, empty, white chair waiting for her in the front row.

"B!" Serena stood up and waved her over.

Blair walked down the aisle slowly, as the crowd started buzzing and all eyes were on her. Ignoring everyone, she made it to her seat, exchanged hugs with Serena and removed her sunglasses.

This was her first social event since the Jack incident last year. It had been a miracle that they had even had a two day buffer before the shit hit the fan, and the Basses had again become front page fodder. If they had thought the media circus surrounding their separation had been bad, well, this had been infinitely worse. The only advantage this time around, had been the fact that police reports were leaked and the entire world had been informed just how psychotic Jack Bass truly was. The nightmare that had been their lives, had catapulted the Basses into a type of cult-like status, the public marveling at how angst-ridden and tragic their epic love story was. People had started to scour through every morsel and tidbit of information they could, and Chuck had emerged as a Byronic hero with Blair being the much maligned heroine. Those who had made nasty comments about their separation now cooed over the depths of their love. And with more than a little satisfaction, Blair had been happy to read how people never believed that Chuck would leave her for someone like Jenny. How it was so obvious that Jenny had been a business arrangement, merely used as a beard for Chuck to protect the wife he clearly adored. But for the first time she could remember, the attention—albeit positive—had made her uncomfortable.

The rabid media scrutiny had driven Chuck and Blair to uncharacteristically shy away from the public's eye. Even though they had reconciled, there had been a lot of hurt and anger and guilt buried beneath the surface. They were emotionally exhausted, although no less committed to one another. They cocooned themselves in their Hamptons home for the next few months, desperate only to be with each other as they had to relearn simply being together again. Except for Christmas Day, the only other time they had returned to New York was for a few short hours when Chuck had to meet with the Board of Directors to discuss extending his leave of absence. Given the hermitlike nature of Chuck and Blair's behavior over the past four and a half months, the press was salivating for any new photos of Blair or her husband.

"Aren't we the center of attention?" Serena murmured into her ear, as she enviously eyed the coat Blair was wearing. "You haven't been out shopping in months, where did you get that fabulous new coat?"

Blair shrugged and batted her eyes innocently at her friend, before the pair burst into giggles. The show hadn't even started, and the room was blinding from all the camera flashes. She was surprised by how much she was enjoying this attention, it was a rush. But still, she was relieved when the overhead lights dimmed and the spotlights lit up the catwalk—Jenny Humphrey's debut at New York Fashion Week was about to start.

.

.

.

Backstage was flooded with a sea of people, the show had been a success. The usual throng of well-wishers had been multiplied by the number of media people who had arrived once word had spread that Blair Bass was at Jenny Humphrey's fashion week debut. Blair and Serena had been backstage for almost half an hour, and had given up the pretense of finding Jenny, and settled for catching up with one another. Just as Serena was about to tell a scandalous tale involving Penelope and Hazel, she got distracted by someone in the crowd.

"Ugh, I don't know why I'm even surprised," she huffed.

"What is it?" Blair asked curiously as she looked at her friend's face that was suddenly alight with anger.

"Your stalker is here," her best friend said, vitriol oozing from her voice.

"Who?" Blair followed the blonde's line of vision and rested upon a familiar face. She offered a half-smile in Dan's direction, trying to ignore the discomfort she felt as his eyes seemed to be drinking in the sight of her.

Serena continued on, "Of all the nerve! What is he even doing here?"

"S, he has _every_ right to be here," Blair said diplomatically.

"No, he doesn't. But of course you're defending him, like you always do. I really don't know how you can condone this type of behavior from him," Serena continued to rant.

"I don't know why you're so upset—" Blair tried again.

Serena waved her off. "Well, I'm tired of him and all this nonsense. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. Is it really too much to ask that he leave you alone for a couple of hours?"

"Serena!" Blair called after her as she stormed off. She prayed that S wouldn't draw too much attention to herself, especially since _**she **_and Jenny had gone out of the way to orchestrate her arrival just so.

Blair watched in confusion as Serena marched past Dan without a second glance, and strode purposefully towards the emergency exit on the right side of the room. Where was she going? A smile stretched on her face when she saw her best friend poke her husband in the chest, the target of the blonde's rage. Instead of looking at Serena, Chuck brushed the snow off of his coat while his eyes combed the room until he found her. Chuck smirked at her, but then his eyes darkened with a promise of retribution, and Blair couldn't stop the shiver of excitement from running up her back.

As Chuck took a step in her direction, he froze mid-step and turned around abruptly. He glowered at Serena, who looked pleased with herself. Her best friend must have said something that had gotten under his skin. Blair was so engrossed watching the pair engage in their typical sibling squabble, that she didn't notice the presence of someone standing next to her.

"Blair?"

She jumped at the voice and then nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"Wow, those two are really getting into it. Are they like that all the time?"

"It's gotten worse over the past couple of weeks," Blair admitted.

"Do they force you to pick sides?"

"Force is a relative term."

"Let me guess, more often than not, you defend Chuck."

"Well, he _is _my husband," she answered, trying not to smile.

"You two scare me," Jenny confessed. "I used to think I wanted that—that kind of all-consuming love. But…"

"You witnessed firsthand the down side?" Blair supplied helpfully.

"It's just _so much_. I honestly don't know how you two can keep up that level of intensity, all the time."

The two women fell silent as Serena and Chuck continued to snip at each other. A moment later, Jenny cleared her throat nervously, "So do you think we should just let the photographers take pictures of us talking, or did you want to pose together for some?"

"Oh, definitely pose. Nothing will create more waves than both of us smiling and getting along, especially with me wearing a coat from your line," Blair advised as she turned to face the blonde for the first time that day. "Congratulations, on your first show, Little J. The clothes looked even better in person than they did from the photos you sent over last week."

A flush of pride crossed the younger girl's face and she smiled gratefully. "Blair, thank you so much for coming. You don't know how happy I was when you called last week and suggested we do this. If there's anything I can do, just say the word."

"Well…" Blair said slowly.

"What?" Jenny asked eagerly.

"Not the finale dress, but the third to the last dress, the black one—."

"If you liked that one," Jenny interrupted with a grin. "There's a dress that didn't make it into my collection that you might like better. It was the last look I cut from the show. I'll send it to you, and if you approve, I'll do the final alterations myself, and the dress is yours."

"I love nothing more than a pretty new dress, and an exclusive one at that," Blair said happily. As the number of camera flashes increased, she inclined her head at the crowd of photographers that had gathered. The two women stepped closer together, smiled and posed for the media. Without a doubt they would be the top story of fashion week.

.

.

.

"You know stalking your own wife could be classified as highly diabolical," Serena informed him.

"The term _stalking_ seems a bit inaccurate, especially since Blair _wants_ me here," Chuck said pointedly.

"Wants you here?" Serena said disdainfully. "Only _you_ would take Blair sending you on a phantom errand, so she could escape from your clutches and come to the show, as a personal invitation for you to play Where's Waldorf."

Chuck stifled the urge to snap at his sister that Blair's last name was Bass, and since there were no blindfolds or restraints in sight, she obviously had no clue how the aforementioned game was played. Instead, he counted to ten slowly before he attacked Serena where he was sure to draw blood, "I don't expect you to understand the intricacies of being in a long-term committed relationship, considering your track record—or lack thereof. But you really need to stop projecting your frustrations and confusing them as Blair's feelings."

"You are such an ass, Chuck," Serena said angrily as her cheeks flushed a dark shade of red.

"No, I'm a _Bass_," he corrected smugly.

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing. You're just trying to piss me off, so you don't have to hear someone tell you the truth. You're practically suffocating her with your refusal to let her leave the house! Other than Christmas, the only way I could see her, was if I made the trek out to the Hamptons. She's always making lame excuses about why she can't come into the city, even though I can hear it in her voice that she wants to!"

"Blair and I decided _together _that we didn't want to be in New York. In fact, the Hamptons was _her _idea. You make it sound like she's a prisoner in our _home_, that she's not free to come and go as she pleases. Has she actually said that? That I'm suffocating her? That she needs to ask to go outside? That she's unhappy?" He demanded, trying to ignore the twinge of horror that Serena's words might possibly be true.

"Of course not," Serena said irritably. "She does actually _love_ you. Why, I don't know, but she does."

He let out a breath of relief. In an effort to diffuse the situation, he confessed, "I won't deny that I _have_ been a bit needy."

"A bit?" Serena scoffed in disbelief. "_You _are rewriting the book on codependency!"

Chuck scowled at her. "You seem to forget how much Blair and I have been through this past year. Excuse me, if the only thing I want is to be at home with my wife."

Serena's face softened. "Chuck…Jack is dead."

"I'm aware," he said stiffly. He hated how easily she could read him sometimes. But she wasn't privy to the fact that he still woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, calmed only by the fact that Blair was lying in his arms.

"He can't hurt Blair, or you, anymore."

"I know that," he insisted. Not that backstage of a fashion show was an ideal place for exposition, but he needed to make Serena understand what he was struggling with. So he told her a modified version of the words he had spoken to Blair—the morning after the first night back at their penthouse. "I've been in love with Blair for so long at this point, I can barely remember what my life was like before she became the center of it. When we were apart last year, I couldn't sleep. All I could do was think and think and _think_. I've loved her since I was sixteen, and even though we've been married for over three years, I've still spent more of the past twelve years without her, than I've spent with her."

"No, that's not possible," Serena argued as she shook her head frantically.

Chuck remained silent, letting his sister calculate the math for herself. He didn't need to tell her that he had vowed to Blair, that from that moment forward he would make sure that they spent the rest of their lives together, not apart. And that he would welcome all the silent treatments and fights to come, if only she would let him. They had left for the Hamptons four days later.

She leaned over and engulfed him in a hug, whispering in his ear, "I'm sorry, Chuck. I _do_ want both of you to be happy—but preferably while living within an UES zip code."

He squeezed her back. "Voluntarily hugging me in public might give the impression that you want to make yourself available for missed childhood memories." He wiggled his eyebrows in an overtly suggestive manner. "It's too late, I'm all Blair's now. You lost your chance to bathe with me years ago."

"Gross, Chuck," Serena said after she shot him an obligatory look of disgust, but there was no heat behind the words. The lines on her face relaxed, his confession had made everything okay between them again.

"So, I take it Blair hasn't informed you that we're back for at least a month? And that the odds are highly in favor of the Hamptons reverting back to _just _being our summer home?"

"What? Why couldn't you just say that to begin with? Why must you always be so difficult?" Serena groaned.

"You were being kind of annoying, Sis," Chuck said with a casual shrug. "And you were itching for a fight. As any good brother would do, I had to provide you with one."

"Well, since no good deed should go unpunished, I hereby invite myself over for dinner, after I've spent all afternoon shopping with your wife. You know, one of her favorite activities that she's had to do without for the past couple of months?"

Chuck rolled his eyes.

"Call Nate and ask him to join us for dinner. It'll be just like old times," Serena suggested. "No, scratch that, I'll call him myself. Knowing you, you'll somehow manipulate him into thinking that it's more important for you to be alone with Blair for the evening, instead of the four of us catching up."

She walked away from him and pulled out her phone, dialing Nate's number.

"Anything else you want while you're at it?" He called out sarcastically. "The chateau in France? The combination to my vault?"

"This will do for now, but I'll get back to you if I change my mind," Serena said flippantly. Nate must've answered her call, because there was a goofy, almost love struck look on her face as she spoke quietly into her phone. Perhaps dinner with the four of them was long overdue, Chuck mused, especially if there was suggestive nudging that needed doing. Maybe it was finally time for Serena and Nate to stop tap dancing around each other and give in to inevitability.

Pleased that blondie was currently distracted, Chuck turned his focus back to what had brought him here in the first place—his wife. His eyes scanned the room, only to locate her now standing next to Jenny, posing for photos. He shook his head. He should've known the moment she had asked him to go to breakfast at her mother's house without her, that she was up to something. Not that he minded breakfasting with Cyrus—secretly, he was Chuck's favorite of Blair's three fathers—but the manner in which she had sidestepped their morning ritual and practically pushed him out the door was enough to rouse his suspicions. When Cyrus had mentioned that Eleanor was sorry she was skipping Jenny's first fashion show, Chuck realized exactly what Blair's true motive was. She had wanted him out of the way so he couldn't stop her, in the event that he objected to her plan—which he did not.

As he made his way towards his wife, he saw Lily from the corner of his eye, talking with Eric, Rufus and Humdrum Humphrey. He would have to go over and say hello, but only _after_ he spoke to Blair. Interrogations first, social niceties later.

.

.

.

Blair's cheeks were beginning to grow sore from all the smiling she had done for the past quarter of the hour. There were so many damned camera flashes, she was seeing spots. She had exhausted all of the small talk topics she was willing to engage in with Jenny, because quite frankly, they were never going to be friends. There was, however, a small part of Blair that was truly grateful to Jenny for aiding Chuck in his misguided quest to protect her. But mostly, this was business. While she trusted Chuck's judgment that loaning money to Jenny would be a good investment when he first made it, she knew the events of the past year could adversely affect Little J. So her "friendly" presence at the show was to insure that multiple goals on her list would be achieved—primarily quashing any belief that Chuck had left her for the younger blonde. Plus, since she no longer despised Jenny and wanted to see a return on their investment, it was the nice thing to do.

She was startled when she felt a pair of hands slide around her waist, but then recognized the familiar scent of her husband's cologne. There was a smile on her face before he had even pulled her against his body and nuzzled her ear.

"Someone's been very, very naughty," Chuck murmured.

"Did you play with your food during breakfast? Cyrus have to give you a timeout?" Blair asked innocently, unable to keep the hint of laughter out of her voice.

"Of course not. Unlike a particular brunette, I know how to behave myself at the breakfast table," Chuck answered smoothly.

Blair turned around to face her husband and scrunched her face at him. "So I threw an éclair at your head. It happened _once_—_last month_. Get over it already." In fact, remembering how perfect her aim had been, and how the chocolate icing had stuck to Chuck's nose and forehead after the pastry landed onto his breakfast plate, made her giggle. To further demonstrate her lack of remorse, she stuck her tongue out at him.

He was almost quick enough to catch her tongue between his teeth, but he settled for a kiss. With his hand possessively splayed on her waist, his lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, "You were supposed to pay penance for dabbling in proletarianesque ways by spending mornings lying naked in bed, with me."

Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the feel of his teeth scraping against her ear lobe, making her question why she hadn't done exactly that today. As he continued to press wet, hot kisses down her throat, she distantly heard a throat clear, realizing exactly where they were.

"Chuck," she said quietly. "We're attracting a lot of attention."

"Let them watch," he said with annoyance at being interrupted, but he reluctantly pulled away from her. "This discussion is not finished."

"I know."

They turned around to face Jenny, whose face was flushed with discomfort of having witnessed their display.

"Congratulations," Chuck offered easily, his arm remained wrapped around Blair's waist. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. "Looks like you're on your way."

"Thanks, Chuck," Jenny said sincerely. "I really can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done."

"It was a good investment," he answered absently, as he looked around the room for an escape route. "We shouldn't be keeping you, I'm sure there are plenty of people who want to talk to you."

Chuck's eyes stopped moving for a moment, before he triumphantly looked down at Blair.

"Are you two coming to the reception at my dad and Lily's?"

Blair could tell Chuck had stopped listening, as his eyes pointedly looked towards the left side of the room. When she turned to see where he was motioning, she nodded in agreement.

"Unfortunately, not," Blair answered quickly. Too much time had passed from when Jenny had asked her question. "We just got back to the city yesterday, and there's a lot to catch up on. You know how it is."

Chuck laced his fingers with hers, before looking back at Jenny and flashing a polite smile. "Congratulations, again. But if you'll excuse us, there's someone we need to say hello to."

Without waiting for a response he tugged on her hand, led her across the room and behind the curtain that had earlier served as a dressing area. Once they were out of sight, he backed her against the furthest wall, untying the belt at her waist. He was operating on high efficiency, her coat was already unbuttoned before she could even open her mouth.

"Who was it we needed to say hello to?" Blair couldn't resist asking.

"Each other."

Those were his last words before he pressed his body up against her. His hands roamed up and down her back, while his mouth descended on hers. He kissed her slowly, almost too slowly, as if to punish her by not giving her enough. Her hands fisted in his hair as she pulled him closer to her, trying to increase the pace. Finally, he relented and ravished her mouth, while one hand slowly crept up beneath her dress. She moaned loudly, reveling in the way he could excite her so easily, the lightest touch igniting intense desire.

"_Charles. Blair_." Lily's voice sharply scolded them. They had been so focused on each other that they hadn't heard the curtains being pulled open.

She pulled her mouth away from his, and he rested his forehead against hers, both of them groaning in frustration. It was as though they were in high school and had been caught by their parents—well, _his_ parent, in this case. With a sigh, Blair slid her hands from Chuck's hair and rested them on his shoulder, blinking her eyes open as she stared up at her husband.

"This is why I prefer leisurely mornings in bed," Chuck reiterated with a growl. "Too many damn interruptions, otherwise."

"I'll make it up to you, tonight," Blair promised, equally disappointed that their alone time had been intruded on.

"You better."

Lily tsked loudly, as they still remained within each other's embrace. It was only when Blair heard Eric's amused laughter followed by someone else's uncomfortable cough, that she realized there was a larger audience. Chuck gave her a purposefully long and scorching kiss, before he unenthusiastically let her go. With matching faux smiles pinned to their faces, they turned around to greet his mother and brother.

.

.

.

He had just topped off drinks for Nate and himself and was about to pose a question about his best friend's love life, when Blair's voice floated into the penthouse.

"Chuck?"

"In here," he called out from the living room as he handed Nate a glass, and sat in the chair across from him.

The sound of clicking heels and duo of girly laughter grew louder, until Serena and Blair appeared in the doorway, the latter waving a newspaper in her right hand. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and there seemed to be an extra bounce in her step. He had just finished taking a sip and was setting the tumbler down, when he saw her eyes narrow.

He watched as his wife dropped the shopping bags in her left hand onto the ground and walked over to him. She discarded her newspaper onto the coffee table, on top of the identical one Nate had brought with him earlier, and unceremoniously plopped herself into his lap. She didn't say a word about the image of them lip-locked that graced the cover of the periodical or even acknowledged Nate, sitting a couple of feet away. With a glare, she reached for his glass and took a large gulp, daring him to comment. He merely raised a brow at her when she set the beverage down. He was unprepared for the ferocity in which she attacked him with her mouth. He was so lost in Blair and the kiss, that it wasn't until he had shifted so she could straddle him, that he heard voices and remembered that they weren't alone. As Chuck unwillingly pulled away from Blair for the nth time that day, he actually realized what words had been said.

"Should we be concerned that Chuck and Blair are having their millionth can't-keep-my-hands-to-myself phase, even though _we're_ the ones in the technical honeymoon period?" Serena teasingly asked Nate, although the question was directed towards the married couple.

Chuck's eyes met Blair's and both sets of brown eyes widened, before they turned their heads to find Serena cuddled in Nate's lap, his hand absently played with the strands of her blonde hair.

"Since when?" Chuck asked as he met his best friend's blue eyes.

"October," Nate said with a hesitant smile. "After what you two went through, it seemed ridiculous to let something like pride stand in our way."

"And you didn't tell us this whole time?" Blair demanded, the brightness of her eyes offsetting the sharpness of her tone. Before either of them could answer, Blair had already scrambled off of his lap, and was pulling his sister out of Nate's, hugging her tightly. The two women squealed happily.

"We just wanted to see if we could get through the holidays," Nate admitted. "And then things were going so well, we decided to keep it a secret. Although, if you guys hadn't come back by the end of the month, we would have driven out to tell you the news."

"Well done, Nate!" Blair said excitedly, as she leaned over to give a combo congratulations and hello greeting.

Chuck stood up and swung Serena around in a circle and whispered in her ear, "_Finally_, Sis."

Blair twirled around to face him just as he let go of his sister. "Where did you hide it? Is it in the vault in your study or the one in my closet?"

He paused for a moment, trying to recall where they had hidden the document in question. "The study. I think it's on the second shelf. Do you want me to go fetch it?"

"No, I'll do the honors." Blair smirked at their best friends. "You two will love this!"

She disappeared down the hall.

"Well, I think we should make a toast to your long overdue union," Chuck said, as he made his way to the bar and pulled out four champagne flutes.

"If you insist," Serena said cheerfully, as she proceeded to kiss Nate in a similar fashion that Blair had greeted Chuck when she walked in.

Chuck busied himself with the glasses and libations. He walked back over and handed out the beverages as Blair burst back into the room, document in hand.

"Did you look at it?" Chuck asked suspiciously, as he handed Blair her drink. She shook her head, as she placed the paper face down on the table. She accepted the glass and settled back into his lap.

"What is that?" Serena asked curiously.

"Toasts, first!" Blair overrode. "To Serena and Nate, who took infinitely longer than Chuck and I did. I am so happy that my two best friends are _finally_ together."

"To finding your bliss," Chuck said simply, as he winked at Nate. "Bottoms up!"

The four of them clinked their glasses and downed the bubbly concoction. Blair took Chuck's glass and placed it with hers on the dining room table, before picking up the piece of paper and hugging it to her chest. Looking at him solemnly, she said, "Addendum to the original agreement. Winner—."

"Gets to ask," he interrupted.

"Exactly."

"Why are you two being so weird?" Serena accused.

"_Weirder_ than usual," Nate specified.

The brunettes ignored their shinier counterparts.

"On the count of three," Chuck said.

"One. Two. Three." Blair flipped over the paper so they could both see. Their hands brushed against each other as they looked over the boxed grid, trying to locate the correct square. They hadn't looked at this chart since they first made it, almost three years ago.

"Seriously, what are you two doing?" Serena asked again.

"Yes!" Chuck shouted triumphantly, finding his initials in the corresponding box. "I win!"

Blair rolled her eyes. "That is pure luck. It's the _only_ box you picked for last year."

"I think you mean pure _genius_," Chuck crowed.

"_Guys_," Nate said with a hint of annoyance. "There are other people in the room besides you two."

"Sorry," Chuck said unapologetically, as he handed over the chart to Nate. Blair settled against him, her head resting in the crook of his neck, as they watched their friends try to decipher the handmade spreadsheet.

About six months into their marriage, there had been a ten hour blackout that spanned most of New York. They had been lying in bed for hours talking, when the topic of Nate and Serena's hook up at their wedding surfaced. Chuck had jokingly suggested they place odds on when the two would finally realize that they were meant for each other. Blair had been about to smack him over the head with a pillow, when she had realized there could be a wager involved. She had jumped out of bed, donned on a robe, and searched through her desk, pulling out pens, markers, paper and a ruler. She had started to make mockups of a grid, while they discussed what the parameters were. In the end, there had been sixty boxes to represent the five years they were going to allow their friends to figure it out on their own, before an intervention would be required. They had been so engrossed in the project, that they continued to work on it for hours after the power had come back on, refusing to do anything else until each square had been fought for. The terms also dictated that if one of them had been declared the winner, he or she would be granted three occasions in which there was veto power, _non-negotiable _veto power.

"You two bet on…_us_?" Serena said, slightly aghast a few minutes later.

"Why does Blair have twice as many squares as you, Chuck?" Nate asked as he continued to study the sheet.

"We had different strategies," Chuck explained. "One of us thought there was safety in numbers." He looked pointedly at Blair. "While I was willing to sacrifice squares to get dibs on the months that I could actually see the opportunity for you two to happen."

"Please," Blair scoffed. "You _bribed_ me to take your squares. As if you could even call those bribes a sacrifice. You enjoyed every last second of—."

"Where did your filter go? Was it the past few months of isolation that made your 'stop talking' reflex disappear?" Nate interrupted, before Blair could finish her sentence or Chuck could think to respond to it. "I hate to break it to you, but Serena and I really _don't _want to know the details of your sex life."

Blair and Chuck both rolled their eyes.

"I don't know if we should be insulted or impressed," Serena said. "You two never fail to be so…_you_."

"Well, _we'll_ take that as a compliment," Blair said. "You two should be honored. We spent almost an entire day analyzing your behavior patterns, and coming up with this chart."

"And how is that _not_ creepy?" Nate asked.

"Who said it wasn't creepy?" Chuck shot back.

Nate and Serena shook their heads while Blair smacked him on the arm.

"Well, you two aren't the only ones with news. There's something that Blair and I wanted to discuss with you," he said, as he stood up and made his way over to the bar to grab the open bottle.

"Is it a cause for celebration?" Serena questioned as he poured the bubbly into all four flutes.

"Definitely," Blair chirped happily as she resettled herself in his lap.

Nate lifted his glass and prodded, "Well, congratulations…"

"Cheers!" Blair said gaily as she knocked back her glass.

Chuck made sure his hands were visibly resting on Blair's flat stomach after he set his glass down. Before their friends could sip their drinks, he said, "To our growing family."

"What?" "Oh my god!"

He and Blair smirked at their faces, frozen in shock.

"But you're _drinking_," Nate said accusingly.

"Actually, neither of us are," Blair informed him snottily. "Chuck and I have a deal, as long as I can't drink, neither can he."

"I've been drinking apple juice since you got here, Nathaniel. And Blair and my glasses of 'champagne' were sparkling pear cider, and that's what I poured into your glasses just now," he admitted, gesturing for them to take a sip of their beverage. "But that's not what we wanted to discuss. It seemed only natural that as our best friends, you two would do us the honor of being godparents, despite your flighty and non-committal ways."

"B," Serena whispered, her eyes were starting to water. "You're pregnant?"

"I am," his wife nodded, her own eyes welling up with tears. "We just found out yesterday at the doctor's. It's probably too premature to tell anyone, but we agreed that we couldn't keep this a secret from both of you."

Serena walked over and crouched down, gently moving Chuck's hands off of Blair's stomach and replacing it with her own. "You're going to have a baby. I'm so happy for you both."

"We're pretty elated ourselves," Chuck said, as he gently lifted Blair off of his lap, so she could share the moment with her best friend.

Nate gave him a bear hug. "Congratulations, man. Looks like you have everything you ever wanted."

Chuck turned his head so he could look at Blair. He found the brown eyes that caused his stomach to flutter with excitement and happiness, staring back at him. Slowly, they smiled at one another.

"Yes," he said quietly. "_We_ do."

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_**fin**_

* * *

><p>AN: To Iluvenis…done! done! done! (Childishly sticks my tongue out at you!)

As always, my sincerest thanks to the lovely and ridiculously talented uncorazonquebrado who makes time to beta for me. I know this sounds cheesy, but truly, I am lost without you.

Hopefully this worked as an epilogue. I had more than a bit of difficulty finding the direction I wanted to go, as the two main scenes I visualized were extremely different from the other. I ended up writing two separate parts that didn't quite mesh well together, but this is the part that seemed to match the tone of the rest of the story. And I hope you feel the story is now complete.

I will be posting the second part as a oneshot in the next week or so, it's definitely a continuation of this world, but works well enough as a standalone. It will give you more of a future glimpse of C/B, set ten years from now. It's a bit Chuckcentric (shocker).

Thank you to all of you who continue to take the time to read my fics, it is appreciated.


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